


The End of All Things

by AzureTiger



Series: Thundershield adventures [6]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst, BAMF Steve Rogers, Established Relationship, Hurt Thor (Marvel), Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Not Thor: Ragnarok (2017) Compliant, Pining, Protective Steve Rogers, Thundershield - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2019-12-08
Packaged: 2021-01-05 20:26:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 21
Words: 90,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21214565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AzureTiger/pseuds/AzureTiger
Summary: Ragnarok is coming, and nothing can stop it. Not all the love and teamwork in the universe.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Well, this is it. The last installment of this series. I'm working on a drawing project to top it all off, and I hope to be finished it in time. But we'll see. With school, I might not manage a chapter a day like before, but I have a few saved up, so perhaps. I also wanted to give myself a bit of extra time to make sure this story makes for the best climax it can be.
> 
> Thanks for sticking around this far into the series! I love each and every one of you, and hope you enjoy this as much as the others, if not more. I welcome your feedback, and feast upon your comments. So feel free to let me know your thoughts, any and all, and don't hold back!
> 
> Rating may increase for a couple of chapters, but I'll warn you. I'm going to try to make this story a little sexier. I've never written a sex scene, and don't really read them, so it probably won't be anything super explicit and pretty vague.
> 
> Thanks again for your support and love, and let's get started B)

They probably could have trained with real swords, given that neither of them would have sustained a cut for long. Even if they had accidentally impaled each other, it was unlikely either of them would have actually died. Still, Tony had wise ly suggested that Steve and Thor practice their sword-fighting with wooden training staffs instead, quickly squashing Thor’s offer to bring some weapons back from Asgard.

“I caught a look at your guts once,” the inventor had held up his hands. “Never again, Cap. You can learn just as well with a stick. If you guys are intent on beating the shit out of each other, I’m sure I could find you some rebar from last week’s disaster in Midtown. It’d land a bruise better than wood.”

Steve had scowled, because bashing each other wasn’t the  _ point _ _ ; _ they would never purposely try to hurt each other (though they often enjoyed getting... rough), it was about getting used to the weight of a blade, the way it moved through the air and sat in his hand. But Tony was right, it would be much smarter to practice with a stick instead of a real blade. One slip-up could cause death, even for two battle-seasoned super-humans.

The pair were fighting now, bare-foot on the mats, Steve in some jogging pants and Thor in a pair of loose Hawaiian shorts that rode low on his hips and high on his thighs. Both of them were topless and shimmering with sweat, pushing back and forth across the training area at pull speed. Tony had recently expanded and reinforced the space, which meant they didn’t have to worry about denting drywall anymore.

Since the fall of SHIELD, the team had only grown closer, everyone moving back into the tower and resuming their previous team activities. That meant regular movie nights, boards games, and facing threats when they arose. And of course, at Steve’s direction and unanimous support, plenty of training. 

Their small group of seven were so diverse in backgrounds and skill sets that they played off each other extremely well. Everyone had something to learn, and something to teach. Steve spent a lot of time learning anything his peers had to offer, constantly adding to his already hefty artillery of combat techniques. Natasha was extremely used to fighting people bigger and stronger than h er , and always put up a good fight, showing him new moves and keeping him on his toes. She forced him to be faster and smarter when he fought. Clint was extremely resourceful with his surroundings and was more than just an unrivalled marksman. He was a tough opponent, clever and observant. Sam made a good boxing partner, endlessly resilient and determined.

Bruce and Tony were less likely to join him for training, but Steve often found it relaxing to join the doctor for a yoga session, or learn something new about tech from the engineer. Currently, Tony was showing him some basic robotics, helping him program and construct a small robot capable of performing very basic tasks, like pouring water into a cup, or following a line across the table on its little wheels. The work was therapeutic and fascinating, and though Tony often talked too fast and about too much at once for even his enhanced brain to comprehend, he still enjoyed himself. It was the perfect task to occupy himself with if he found himself recovering from battle injuries.

Tony made a very good partner in commiseration. Sometimes Steve just needed someone who had gone through something similar to him, someone who had been trapped in a dark space and afraid like he had. Some of their past experiences and causes of PTSD were very similar. Thor was wonderful. He was always willing to listen, doing his best to understand, and offering up wise words of truth at the end of it . T here were times when Steve needed his calm words and soft touches, and times when he needed Tony’s deeper understanding of what bothered him.

The whole team seemed overall happier, more open and more connected than ever before. Steve would always struggle against the urge to tuck himself away after a tough battle and lick his wounds with only Thor to see him hurt and struggling, but it was getting easier to let the others in too.

Which was good. His nightmares were making a comeback. Ever since Bucky had taken up residence in the tower, dreams of the train had surged across his memory. He dreamed of his friend falling and dragging him down too. He dreamed that it was himself who had fallen while Bucky pushed him off with a wicked smile full of teeth. He dreamed of Bucky beating him within an inch of his life and filling him with bullets, cutting and tearing at his flesh with his metal arm until there was nothing left of his body. Hence, he often found relief in spending time with Thor in the gym, both of them working each other into a heavy sweat. He was learning a lot from his training sessions, becoming a better warrior than he already was, but the release was good too.

Since Bucky’s arrival in the tower and his subsequent imprisonment in the cage meant for the Hulk, he and Steve had spoken only a handful of words, and th ose had only  been  to confirm that Bucky could indeed be let out of his cell and wouldn’t kill anyone. Sam had been wary, keeping a close eye on the assassin anytime he was present (which was rare, he kept to his room mostly), and watching him with scrutiny. Bucky had moved into Steve’s old room, and Steve had hoped the photos scattered around the living space would help his former friend remember a little of his past. So far, there was no way to tell.

He hardly saw the man. Bucky kept to himself, sneaking out of his room to get food when it was dark and he thought no-one was around . JARVIS had reported he’d left the building a couple of times, but had never gone far. Steve wasn’t sure what to think of that, whether it meant Bucky felt safe enough here to stay, or if he was too afraid to leave. 

Thor seemed torn about the situation. He’d been very wary about letting Steve anywhere near the assassin alone and unarmed, but had relented and kept his distance, staying by the door the first couple of times Steve had ventured into the glass cage to try and speak to his damaged friend.

It had been three months since the fall of SHIELD, and Steve had barely managed to interact with the man. He ventured to  his old room often, knocking on the door and requesting permission to enter (always to no response), or asking JARVIS to help run into him when Bucky stepped foot outside on his own. Bucky always changed course and didn’t respond, eyes focused intently ahead, silent. Was he scared, annoyed...? It was hard to say.

It was hard to know if he was doing the right thing, too. Was he further harming his friend by keeping him here? Was he providing the right sort of support? The anxiety stirring up his thoughts was often the catalyst to a more aggressive nightmare, and subsequently a long  conversation with Thor when the demigod pulled him free. 

Everyone seemed to be trying to help, though. Tony had offered to fund whatever treatment was needed, and Bruce had suggested a few methods Steve could try to help contend with whatever ailed the other super-soldier. The doctor had admitted, however, that this was not his area of expertise, and that a real psychiatrist needed to be consulted. Steve had insisted that it might be better to make some headway on their own first, before asking Bucky to face complete strangers.

Maybe that was stupid, since everyone here was essentially a stranger anyway. Bucky didn’t know Steve; Bucky wasn’t  _ Bucky _ , and never would be. Not fully.

Thor had suggested  Asgard many times, that he would happily disobey his father’s orders and bring Steve’s friend to his kingdom for whatever treatment that could be offered. He had proclaimed the  eir had magics that could help stabilize the mind. It seemed much too soon for that – how on Earth was he supposed to get Bucky to come with him to  Asgard if the man would barely leave his room? It was a hopeful solution, though, one he desperately hoped to make use of one day.

They still hadn’t managed to get Tony to look at that arm yet, either. The inventor proclaimed he could make a new one, a better one, using HYDRA tech as a base and improving it with his own, melding his own robotics expertise with the brain interfacing technology used in the arm. So far, there had been no response when Steve had explained to Bucky on the rare  occasion he actually saw him that his friend could fix that arm. It was dented, the plates grinding against each other every time it moved, the soft whirr of internal mechanisms interspersed with a dull tick that sounded an awful lot like a jammed motor. Steve was starting to recognize things like that after his robotics crash courses with Tony. 

Tony.  _ God, Tony... _ Bucky had killed his parents. There was something he  _ really _ never wanted to bring up.

Natasha knew, Sam knew, Thor knew... and one day, Tony should know too. But Steve had no idea how to tell him. The man was one of his best friends, a steadfast and loyal ally. It was going to hurt so much to have to break the news to someone so close to him. But because they were so close, he could have to. One of these days...  H e should probably do it before the inventor made Bucky his new arm (if Bucky ever actually accepted the offer).

There was a lot to think about, hence he sought to give his brain a break and was in the gym, a big wooden stick in one hand, battling Thor with all his strength, desperately trying to get the upper hand.

Steve was a fast learner, but aptitude alone wouldn’t be enough against an opponent wielding fifteen—hundred years of experience. He turned the stick in his hand, block ed a jab at his flank, then changing grips again to protect his face. Thor struck out with his staff and leg at once, whacking their weapons together with a loud smack that time d perfectly with his hooking foot. Steve suddenly found his leg ripped out from under him and started to fall, angling himself to land strategically, preparing to use the momentum to bounce himself back up. Thor wrapped his hand around the stick in his hand and yanked him around in a circle, throwing him on the floor and thrusting the end of his own staff against the dip in the Captain’s throat.

Thor was starting to loosen, opening his mouth to proclaim the end of the fight, but Steve wasn’t done. Quickly recovering his breath, the soldier knocked Thor’s staff aside with his forearm and lifted his hips off the floor, wrapping his legs around the demigod’s waist and rolling. He pulled the prince down with all the strength in his legs, twisting his hips to slam his friend to the mats. Steve quickly threw himself on top of the demigod and pushing his knee into his wrist until the staff was released from the imprisoned hand. Thor abandoned his weapon, a sly grin on his features as he  lay  still for just a moment under Steve’s grip. Then he thrust his hips upward and threw the Captain off of him, forcing him off and flipping him onto his back. A hand pressed into his shoulder and slammed him to the floor, the demigod’s other forearm dropping some warning pressure against his throat.

“A brave try, Captain,” Thor breathed , “ b ut I fear I win again.”

Steve panted there on the floor, not particularly bothered that he had lost. Not at all. Not when it ended like this. Something burned in his chest that could only be described as  raw desire –  desire for what, he wasn’t sure. Touch, maybe. But... more. He couldn’t describe it.

Thor’s eyes were swirling with a similar primal desire too, posture triumphant and possessive in a way that made Steve’s skin prickle pleasingly and his heightened senses scream for more.

There was never any more. They wrestled, and sometimes if the coast was clear, they made out, but sometimes the fight simply ended here, staring at each other and breathing in this desperate, ragged way. Thor seemed to have a slightly better idea of what he wanted, by the look in his eyes, but Steve had no idea what that something might be, nor what he himself wanted. Either way, the god never made his moves for whatever it was he clearly desired, so Steve never pushed.

Thor pulled back and offered his hands, pulling Steve to his feet with his usual ease. The  _ look _ in his eyes faded, and Steve let it drain from himself too, picking up his staff while the prince gathered his in turn. “Another fine battle, my friend,” the prince complemented. “You have progressed as rapidly as expected.”

“As usual, I have a good teacher,” Steve smiled as he set his staff on the wall and went to fetch his water bottle and shirt. “I’ll beat you one of these days.”

“Perhaps,” Thor replied cheerfully as he wiped sweat from his face and chest with a towel. Steve admired muscles he had already memorized, had already drawn to many times, but could have drawn from any angle from memory if he wanted to. It wasn’t their mere presence that was so beautiful, but rather their capabilities. Thor wasn’t just  _ strong, _ but so careful and thoughtful. There was something endlessly entrancing about such boundless power lingering within a gentle touch, contained but ready to be used at any second.

He  had always  felt this way. Steve wondered when the exact moment he’d fallen for Thor had been, and he had a feeling it was probably among the many moments they had spent in close contact with each other in that cell on Sakaar. Was it when Thor had pulled him to his feet and taught him how to dance, their hands entwined and the demigod’s cheerful confidence warming the room? Maybe it was when Thor had woken him from one of his earlier nightmares and stayed up with him for hours into the night, making sure he was okay, keeping him grounded, and finally joining him in the bed like they did every night now. Or perhaps it had all happened on day one, when Thor’s powerful fingers had pulled all those pieces of  melted  uniform out of his  burned s ide, delicate and precise and tender.

It was intoxicating, the way Thor could simply flip a switch and swap between gentle touches and devastating punches in an instant. He could handle Steve’s wounds as he were handling a kitten, giving them all the care in the universe, mere seconds after hurling chunks of building with his bare hands and dealing blows so powerful they could shatter human bones (and most other species’ bones, for that matter).

“Ah, I landed a bruise,” Thor appeared behind him, sweeping his knuckles up Steve’s spine between his shoulder blade.

“Watch, it’ll be gone in a few hours,” Steve smiled, enjoying the brief shiver that brought back that strange sensation again. He ignored it and turned around, quirking an eyebrow at Thor’  bristled cheek .  There was a slight bruise forming, just peeking out above the prince’s thick beard.  Without thinking he stretched out his hand to touch it. “Yeah, looks like I got one in too.”

“A rare feat, for a mortal,” Thor scoffed. “You must feel very proud.”

“Let’s go again, and we’ll see how well you come out of it this time,” Steve smirked. “You should have told me if it’s bruises you want.”

“A bold claim,” Thor chuckled, waving his hand. “I would be enticed if I thought you capable.”

“You wound me,” Steve went along with it, slipping his shirt over his head, buzzing with vitality. A good fight with Thor always made him feel alive.

Dinner was taking place in the common area tonight. It was Natasha’s turn to pick what they ordered, and had sent JARVIS to take care of procuring pasta and garlic bread and gelato from the Italian place a few blocks down. Sam had already laid out a variety of card games playable by seven people at once, and Clint was  taking the tops off beer bottles and passing them around .

As usual, the evening was pleasant. Sam had moved into the tower when Tony had o pened his doors , a little shocked at being offered a place on the infamous team, but quickly adjusting. He fit right in, and Steve had to admit it was nice to have another soldier there to connect with. Besides, Sam was just... steady. Calm, sensible, clear-headed. Rational. Very down-to-earth, virtuous, and just  _ good. _ A good man. He hadn’t batted an eye upon learning that Captain American and the God of Thunder were essentially ‘dating’, by normal Earth terms. Just like the rest of the team, Sam found endless enjoyment out of ribbing the pair.

“Aw, gross, save it for the bedroom would  ya ?” Clint moaned as Thor pulled Steve into his lap and kissed him between the eyes.

“Yeah, PDA guys,” Sam joined in.

Of course, that was only cause for more, and Steve considered it payback for all the jokes made at his expense as he and Thor made kissy noises and aimlessly squirmed on the couch. There was much raucous complaining and dramatic protest, but things settled down for the card game to begin.

The game continued late into the evening, until finally Clint yawned and  proclaimed he was going to bed. Bruce wasn’t far behind, and everyone else drifted off to their own rooms.

“I’ll be right there,” Steve waved Thor on ahead of him when everything was cleaned up. The demigod didn’t argue, nodding understandingly and taking his leave.

Tony had had some food brought to Bucky’s door, and asked JARVIS to alert his most recluse tenant about the offering waiting outside. Steve was grateful for that, but it made the growing pain in his chest tighter as he thought about what he had to do.  _ I have to do it... the sooner the better. _

When he got to Bucky’s door, the food was gone. He smiled. Good, his friend had eaten. Steve raised his hand and knocked gently.  _ And what the hell am I going to say to him if he actually opens it one of these days? _ The soldier licked his lips nervously. He was worried, of course, though it was good to know JARVIS would alert him if something was seriously wrong. When he’d asked the AI for brief details on the man who had moved into his old room, the report was always just barely acceptable: Bucky was eating, occasionally taking brief cold showers, had explored the bathroom a little and started brushing his teeth, but otherwise wasn’t doing much. JARVIS had once reported that Bucky had picked up a book Steve had left behind and flipped through the pages aimlessly before sitting down to read it on the floor. There he’d stayed for hours, until the book was over, at which point he’d tucked it neatly back on the shelf and shuffled to the middle of the floor to sit and wait obediently as he so often did. The AI had done his best to describe how the alienated assassin might be feeling, but the best he could do was explain that Bucky had appeared detached and nervous, like he was waiting for a  balloon to pop.

Steve wondered if Bucky was doing that now, waiting for orders or punishment that weren’t going to come. He stood patiently by the door for a few minutes before knocking gently again and opening his mouth. He started as always, by recounting the day. “Hey Buck, did some training today. Nothing for the Avengers to fight today except each other. Thor beat me again. He’s teaching me sword-fighting. I think you’d really like him-”  _ god, I hope you like him, “ _ and Tony’s looking forward to fixing your arm, if you want that. He can make you a real nice one, any color you want.”  _ That’s if he doesn’t take the offer back when I tell him about his parents... _

As usual, there was no reply. The romanticist in Steve imagined Bucky hovering by the door, clinging to every word he said. But maybe Bucky was asleep in bed and couldn’t hear him, or was in the shower, or was up to something else, blocking out the voice of this annoying man who was always here, trying to talk to him as if he knew him.

Steve lowered his head. “You pulled me out of the river. You found me in the tower and fought off HYDRA and saved my life. I know you remember me, at least a little. I won’t hurt you, I promise. Neither will the others.” _What will Tony do, when he finds out? Kick you out of the tower? Will he break my promise and take a swing at you? Take a swing at me? Shit, this could get bloody, it could get so messy..._ It could rip the team apart, this precious family. This family was all Steve had, and it was _everything._ These people were his sisters, his brothers, his best friends. All of them were unique in their suffering and circumstances, yet alike in the very same way. They completed each other perfectly. Bucky would fit right in. He’d enjoy dark jokes and witty banter with Clint, especially at Steve’s expense. He and Natasha would mesh right away over their experiences being made into weapons against their will, he knew that. And Tony, Bucky would appreciate his intelligence right away. They would probably talk about new technologies, because Bucky had always been smart and eager to learn. Bruce would sympathize over his experience having a monster inside him always waiting to snap and take over, but he would offer an unjudgmental ear to whatever Bucky had to get off his chest, and provide unbiased, calm advice. Sam would get over himself and grow to like Bucky, he knew it, and the two of them would connect over their military backgrounds. And Thor of course would be easy-going and free of judgment as always, ready to accept Bucky into their family without a second’s thought.

This family meant everything to  Steve . He hoped it could someday mean everything to Bucky, too.

“Okay,” Steve sighed and started to step back. “Okay, goodnight.  There’s... a computer, I told you about it before. It runs the building. You can talk to it, if you need anything. If you’re hungry, or ... anything. Just... take care of yourself.” He walked away. Did Bucky even know what ‘taking care of himself’ meant? Steve clenched his fists as he walked slowly back to the elevator.

A very quiet sound alerted him, something clicking. He turned his head just in time to see Bucky’s door closing. Hope leaped up his ribs and into his throat, tightening it and wetting his eyes.  _ Take your time, Buck.  _ Maybe he was getting  through after all.

Thor was waiting for them in their room, his hair damp and his naked back red from a hot shower. He greeted Steve in a towe l , holding the fabric around his waist. The prince frowned at the sight of Steve’s muddled expression. “No luck?” he asked.

Steve shrugged shakily and walked by, pulling off his shirt. He needed a shower too. “Not really... He poked his head out the door, I think...  O pened it a crack at least. Didn’t say anything.”

“Then that is progress,” Thor smiled, dropping the towel without modesty and wandering lackadaisically in the direction of the bedroom to find some pants. Steve politely looked away, scurrying to the bathroom.

“Yeah, you’re right, it is...” It was something, at least. Baby steps.

He showered, and felt better for it. When he emerged, Thor was waiting for him in bed, lifting the covers and inviting him under. Steve crawled in and pressed his shoulders into the prince’s chest, happy to be enveloped tonight. Thor completely absorbed him, safely tucking him against a wall of muscle. Their fingers quickly wove together against Steve’s sternum, and Thor pushed one leg between Steve’s, wrapping it around his ankle and snorting through his nose like a sleepy lion. Soft lips touched his ear and moved down his neck, resurfacing that strange sensation of want.

“We will find a solution,” Thor murmured  drowsily , already starting to fall asleep. “Do not trouble yourself for the moment. Rest.”

Steve obeyed.

\--

It wasn’t just Steve’s nightmares that were picking up again. Thor’s were absolutely  _ raging. _ It wasn’t every night –  or, it hadn’t been. The nightmares were becoming more and more frequent, and more violent. Ever since Thor had shot awake and uttered that meaningless word –  _ Ragnarok _ – he had grown ever more  adamant that something bad was coming.

Steve didn’t know enough about Thor’s culture or even what was possible in this vast universe, but he wholly believed that if Thor said his dreams were premonitions, they absolutely could be. And Thor seemed  _ very _ convinced, eyes wide and bright with fear as he stared into another dimension post awakening from one of his nightmares. But he would never give many details. Steve still didn’t know what  R agnarok  _ was. _ Was this some kind of... Asgardian sickness? A curse that claimed the mind and slowly drove the  Aesir mad? Frightened them to death in their sleep? 

Perhaps he would find out more tonight, because Thor was set to endure Hell again.

Steve was currently engrossed in his own dream, and not a pleasant one, but the sensation of Thor’s arms squeezing the life out of him woke him up . He blinked himself back to reality and forgot his own dream with ease. Thor’s face was buried between his shoulder blades, and the demigod was murmuring garbled pleas as he always did. Their bodies were glued together with sweat.

It was becoming increasingly difficult to free Thor from his own mind with each dream , and increasingly difficult to move as seconds ticked by . Steve grit his teeth and pried Thor’s a rm a way from his chest far enough that he could roll over and face his partner. Shit, the Asgardian was  _ strong.... _ One of these days he was going get snapped in half. Preferably, he would find a solution before then.

“J, lights,” Steve croaked, and the AI brightened the room a little, enough to shed some light on the body he was pressed so tightly against.

Thor’s fingers dug into his back as the demigod pushed his face between Steve’s pecs. His cheeks were damp with tears.  _ Shit, he’s crying. That’s new.  _ The prince was actually  _ sobbing,  _ violently heaving as if he couldn’t get air into his massive chest. Maybe he couldn’t.

Steve wrapped his hands around Thor’s neck, an erratic pulse pummeling his palms through swollen arteries. “Hey, wake up,” he murmured. “Wake up, Thor, it’s just a dream-”  _ cl _ _ early it’s more than that...  _ "I’m here. It’s me. It’s Steve. Whatever you’re seeing, it isn’t real.”  _ But it might be eventually, whatever it is you’re dreaming about, if this really is a premonition like you think it is. _

Thor moaned like he was in pain, shivering and mumbling more words that were absolutely incomprehensible. They sounded like they were in another language, and maybe they were. Steve knew Thor had a few alien languages under his belt, including his native tongue. This sounded a bit like that.

As usual, this would take a bit of work. “J, play that song we danced to yesterday,” he asked, searching his brain for ideas. Just like that, soft orchestral music filled the room, violin and piano harmonizing a cheery, upbeat tune. Thor paused involuntarily, but quickly resumed his writhing. Steve bit his lip and rubbed comforting circles into the prince’s temples with his palms. It was a bit of a strain, but he managed to wiggle himself in a position to press their lips together in a soft kiss. Bombarding Thor’s senses as forcefully as he could seemed to be the only way of rousing his partner. He trapped aimless pleading in Thor’s mouth with his lip, tasting salt as tears dribbled into his mouth.

Steve pulled back for just a moment. “Hey, shh, it’s me. We’re in the tower. Just another dream. Just another dream.”

Thor’s muttering resumed, but it was hesitant and questioning. Steve quickly clutched the prince’s head and kissed his lips again, rubbing his thumbs across furrowed eyebrows. He pushed one hand into Thor’s soft hair, brushing it back with his fingers and smoothing thick locks tame. He was getting through, beating the dream back and winning. Thor was settling, going quiet and still and drawing back to reality. Finally.

The prince heaved a telling sigh and hugged Steve close, pushing his face into the Captain’s throat and breathing a little more evenly, a little more deeply.

Steve stroked his head and pressed a kiss to the top of it, hugging his other arm around Thor’s back. “This one was the worst yet,” he murmured. “The same again?”

“Ragarok...” Thor choked, his voice uncharacteristically weak and broken. “Ragnarok.”

“I know, I know,” Steve rubbed his fingers into Thor’s scalp. “I know. Shh. Catch your breath. Come on, with me. Easy does it.”

Once he was awake, Thor was very obedient, accepting all commands given to him in his shaken state. He took shaky breaths in time with Steve until the pattern settled naturally for him.

“There, that’s better,” Steve encouraged gently. Thor didn’t say anything else, holding tightly onto the Captain. His grip didn’t loosen much, even as he fell asleep again. Steve sighed. He’d hoped to keep the demi-god awake for a little while this time, maybe learn a bit more about this reoccurring dream and its significance.  _ Let him sleep. I’ll talk to him in the morning.  _ He wasn’t particularly tired himself, so it was not strenuous to sit up with the  demi god  and  continue his soothing rubs while his partner slept on.

Morning came. Steve got up and left Thor tucked up in bed, shuffling off to get dressed. It was still very early, early enough that he could get in a brief workout in the living room before making breakfast. He had no intention of leaving their living space until he’d gotten some answers.

Thor stirred, letting loose his usual monumental, perhaps dramatic groan as he shifted his huge body in bed. It was a pleasing sound, even if it did sound somewhere between a shout and a yawn, louder than could possibly be necessary, but so contented and satisfied. Thor always managed to get some dosing in after his terribl e dreams , though these days he never seemed entirely rested .

Today, the god looked wear ier than usual as he wandered out of their room dressed in the  pj bottoms he’s fallen asleep in, eyes ringed with grey and glinting with the torture that had painted them so. Thor usually looked... soft, when he was fresh out of bed and still dragging himself awa ke , eyelashes partially glued together and a happy, loopy smile on his bearded face. There was none of that today.

Yeah, answers were in order. Steve pulled out a chair with his foot and nodded at it as his slid a couple of plates onto the table. “Hey...”

Thor sat and pulled his plate to him, muttering a thank-you and grabbing the fork offered, shoveling eggs onto a slice of toast before morosely taking a bite. His eyes were locked in the middle-distance, unblinking. Steve took a seat across from him and waved a hand. The demigod blinked his eyes into focus and offered Steve an apologetic smile.

“We  gotta talk about this,” Steve’s eyebrows upturned and pushed together.

Thor actually paled. It was a rare thing for him to be afraid. The man was stoic, but he genuinely wasn’t afraid of much. This dream was shaking him to his core. “I... cannot.”

“You have to,” Steve countered. “Thor, I’m worried. This is bad, and it’s not getting any better. You said it yourself: this isn’t just a normal dream. If you won’t tell me what it is, I’ll have to guess, and right now all my guesses are pretty terrifying. So what is it? Are you sick? I don’t know much about magic, but I’m sure curses exist-”

“Steve.” Thor set down his toast. “Steve, it is not a curse.”

“Then what is it?”  _ Progress. I’ll annoy you into telling me, you know I can, and I will. _

“It is...” Thor furrowed his brow in anguish and confusion. “It is...  R agnarok.”

Like that was supposed to explain it. Thor didn’t seem to know exactly how to convey what was happening either. Steve sat  still, listening intently. “What’s  R agnarok?”

“An ancient Asgardian legend,” Thor shook his head, “nay, a warning. A prophecy, of the end of  Asgard itself. The end of an era, the end of the  A llfather.”

Oh. Steve paled and his heart skipped a beat. He could picture  Asgard in his mind as if he were there looking at it . And h e’d seen enough destruction to foresee it befalling the gorgeous kingdom ,  golden spires engulphed in ravaging flame . The thought of Thor’s home world crumbling made his heart ache, but not as much as the thought of Thor himself being swept away too.

No, there was no sense in panicking. He stood up and walked around, placing his  hands on Thor’s mighty shoulders from behind . “You ever had a premoniscient dream before?” Thor frowned and shook his head. “Then we don’t know if it’ll come true for sure. Maybe you can stop it –  _ we  _ can stop it.”

“The prophecy is very clear on its outcome,” Thor  leaned backward to make eye contact and  shook his head.

“The future isn’t a cast waiting to be filled,” Steve shook his head right back . “If you let it happen, then yes, maybe the dream will come to pass. But if we can fight it, we have to.”

“It is not that simple,” Thor replied, regret deep in his eyes. He looked burdened and suddenly ancient, responsibility weighing his thousand-year-old stare.

“It always is for you,” Steve retorted easily. “You just...  T hat’s what we’ll do. We’ll fight it, somehow. But you have to tell me what’s going on, okay? You’d ask the same of me. You  _ have  _ asked the same of me. We’ll get through this, and we’ll do it together.”

Thor paused, his honest face a mixture of stirring emotions, many hues mixing into a new color that was warm and deeply touched, but fearful and apprehensive at once. Steve clutched Thor’s head and leaned in, meeting their lips. That seemed to be the final blow to convince the demigod fully that he should listen to his Captain. Shakily, Thor relented and  turned in his chair , reaching up for a hug. Steve obliged happily, wrapping his arms around the demigod and squeezing him.

Together, just as they’d faced many threats in the past. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are some issues from the MCU that I feel need to be addressed, but I didn't want to give them too much time given that they are not the focus of the story. They are important details though, so I tried to add them in.
> 
> Oh, things are only going downhill from here, I can't wait.

Their conversation regarding  R agnarok would have to wait. The Avengers were assembling. Steve hopp ed into his combat gear,  fastened  his helmet, and snapped his shield to his back. Thor was probably the fastest to get changed, suddenly clad in his formal battle attire in a burst of lightning.

Just like that, everyone was gathered on the  quinjet , listening to the information JARVIS could provide while Clint and Natasha flew them in the right direction.

“Goons in stupid masks, following some guy with an even stupider name,” Tony concluded the debrief. “Excellent, my favorite. What’s the plan, Cap?”

“The usual,” Steve pulled his shield from his back and slid his arm through the straps. He could see out the cockpit window that they were approaching the park. Small shapes – those aforementioned goons plus a few unfortunate civilians – raced around the grass among wild laser blasts. Not normal guns, then. “Hawkeye, mark the perimeter. Iron Man can get you somewhere high. Stark and Falcon, I want you in the air lending support, watching backs. Thor, draw them to you, keep as much of the fighting on you as possible while Nat and I get the civilians to safety. J, call emergency services. I want a perimeter around the park. No enemies get past the park boundary. We’ll call code green if we need it.”

“You heard the man, let’s roll!” Tony waved his hand in a circle in the air, donning his helmet as the jet landed.

It was nice to have the extra man, someone airborn. Someone to help temper Tony’s impulsive, order-disregarding nature. Sam made a wonderful addition to the team in that regard, and hadn’t seemed to mind jumping back into action again either. In fact, he was happy to.

Tony had offered to get Steve in the air plenty of times, suggesting he get his own  exo -Falcon suit, or an adapted Iron Man suit, or even just some kind of basic thrusters. Steve didn’t particularly want to be in the air, and neither did he need to be. He was perfectly effective on the ground.

Everyone dispersed to set the plan in motion, leaving Banner to guard the fort and keep his ear on the comms, ready to Hulk-out if summoned, or prep med supplies if someone got hurt. There were always a few cuts and scrapes, but rarely anything serious. Their team was skilled, and had each other’s backs.

There were a  _ lot _ of goons. Steve didn’t bother too much with the details of why they were here or what they wanted. The information hadn’t been pertinent to beating them, and wouldn’t have helped his plan, so he’d stored it away. Not forgotten, but pushed to the sidelines. Thor dropped into the middle of the park with a mighty yell, spinning his hammer and summoning dark clouds and lightning. The small army of minions swarmed him, and bodies immediately started flying left and right as they were flung effortlessly.

Steve raised his shield and caught blast after blast with the resilient metal, unwilling to throw his best protection when there were so many shots whizzing at random around him. Tony was always making their suits stronger and better, but he didn’t particularly want to test how well it would do against these bright red shots that  _ looked  _ a lot like phaser blasts from _ Star Wars _ . It was tempting to make the reference over the comms, if simply for the sake of proving that he knew a thing or two about the modern world.  _ Not that Star Wars is modern anymore... _

Focus. Steve finally caught himself an opening, hurling his shield and bouncing it off three enemies, making three successive crunches before catching the disk in his hand and snapping it to his back as he broke into a run and slid across the grass under the line of fire of another enemy. Natasha disposed of him, and Steve snatched a woman out of the way of a charging goon, scooping her right off her feet and pivoting to take incoming shots with his shield.

“Iron Man, can I get a lift?” Steve called.

“Beep beep, taxi,” Stark was there in second, reaching out his hand to swoop the woman from the Captain’s grasp, carrying her through the air and safely over the fighting. She was deposited on the other side of the perimeter and Tony zipped back into the fray, blasting down minions from the air. Steve saw a shot strike his armor as one of the goons took aim, and the blast actually knocked Tony off course. The inventor cursed. “Shit, these weapons are powerful. Not sure what they’d do to a person, but they’re damaging my armor. Steer clear, Falcon.”

“Copy that,” Sam replied. He wasn’t nearly as armored.

“They’re fast, too,” Natasha added, felling another enemy and taking his gun, turning to fire at the group approaching on Steve’s flank. The pair pressed together, coordinating their attacks.

“These guys are well-trained for goons,” Steve agreed, rapidly switching sides with Natasha to take the oncoming barrage of shots with his shield. The widow rested her gun on his shoulder and felled them with a few precise blasts. Her gun was empty. She tossed it aside and scooped up another.

“They’re good shots, too,” Natasha added.

“They are quite ferocious, for humans!” Thor roared over his comm, sounding utterly pleased. Thunder cracked viciously across the sky. He was doing his job of keeping most of the fighting centered on himself, that was for certain. Steve hoped that whatever these blasts were, they wouldn’t hurt the demigod.

_ Unlikely. He’s tough. Mortal weapons, right? _

Steve tucked himself and Natasha both behind his shield again, protecting them from an onslaught of fire. She had already taken a hit, and the shot had blasted through her uniform and burned her skin, searing a thick red line that oozed blood out the center. These weapons were brutal.  _ Who designed these? _ It didn’t matter. Only stopping the threat did.

“Alright?” Steve glanced back at her, keeping his eye on the enemies around them while making sure both of them were protected.

“Eyes on the prize, Rogers,” she replied tersely, and he obeyed. Her teeth were pressed together, but she was muscling through whatever pain the blast had caused her. There was still a lot of fighting left to do, and she didn’t intend to be left out. Good, it meant she was okay. He gave her a resolute nod and provided cover while she picked up yet another gun and started firing. As usual, they made an  excellent team.

“Down, I’m down!” That’s was Tony’s frantic voice over the comms. “Bastard shot my suit, it’s shorted out! I need a catch!”

Steve looked up and spotted a shiny red and gold shape flailing through the air. There was nothing he could do. Luckily, Sam was close by, sailing over as fast as he could and catching Iron Man’s gauntlet. Steve watched just long enough to make sure his friends were okay; Falcon strained and pulled, reversing Tony’s direction of travel. They were both a little too close to the ground already for a graceful landing though, and tumbled into the grass with a thump.

“Everybody okay? Report,” Steve ordered, keeping one eye on his own fight.

“Okay,” Sam groaned over the comms.

“Tony?”

“Yup, yup, I’m good,” the inventor croaked. “I need some cover-”

“I’ll get you back to the jet,” Sam replied.

They were a man down. Steve frowned and adjusted his plan. “Bruce, report on Tony when he gets there.”

“Steve-”

Steve ignored the inventor’s protest. “Just do it. If he’s okay, I need the Hulk. You can switch with Thor and keep the fighting on you. Thor can keep a lookout in the air.” Thor didn’t have the same maneuverability in the air as Tony did, nor did he have precision  repulsors , but it would have to do. They needed the cover. Sam alone wouldn’t be enough.

Natasha vaulted over his shoulder and he gave her a boost, pushing his shield forward as she rocketed off it into the small cluster of enemies facing them. She made quick work of them, moving just as fluidly as always, with no movement wasted. One man approached her from the side with his gun raised, but Steve jammed his shield into his face, knocking him instantly unconscious.

“Tony’s got a concussion,” Bruce’s announcement drew his attention.

“That’s a  _ mild _ concussion,” Tony interjected drowsily.

“Yeah, okay,” the doctor disregarded him. “I’m coming out.” A few seconds later, and Hulk’s roar sang out across the park. Thor shot into the sky, and the green monster took his place.

Content, Steve raced toward another cluster of enemies and flung his shield, bringing them down before they could shoot.

“Steve, look out!” Natasha called for him, but it was too late. Something hot struck him in the back of his shoulder, just a few inches shy of his spine. It burned through his uniform and punctured his skin, eliciting a surprised yelp before he could help himself.

At least the shot didn’t feel like it had gone that deep. But it  _ hurt. _ Steve whipped around spotted the shooter, standing a few feet away with a gun in his hand. The man was clearly one that he and Natasha had already taken down, because one arm was bent out of shape, and his breathing was coming in short, wet rasps – the sign of crushed ribs.

But he was  _ up. _ How? He had to be in too much pain to stand. Steve had jammed his shield into that man’s chest hard enough to kill with the shock alone, before the lack of air or blood from punctured lungs could. These goons were well trained compared to some others they had fought, but they were still just that: goons. Not enhanced, just very well-armed. Apparently they  _ were  _ enhanced in some way.

Regardless, they weren’t as enhanced as he was. Steve growled and lifted his shield to block the next shot, running and closing the gap. He jumped and struck out with his booted foot, kicking the man in the chest and hurling him across the park into a tree, where he struck with a crack and fell limp. 

“Watch out everyone,” he warned, “these guys are tough. You’ll have to make sure they’re dead.”

This was turning out to be a long fight.

\--

As usual, they won, but everyone was a little banged up. Aside from Banner, of course, who was just exhausted. He was slumped in a corner with his blanket and headphones, Tony beside him sporting a big scrape on his forehead. Sam was with them, making sure they were okay.

Steve got Natasha inside and made sure she was okay to fly the jet, ignoring his own searing back in favor of taking care of her burned arm.

“Another day,” she sighed, glancing at the body and weapon they’d brought back for later inspection. “No matter how many times Tony upgrades our uniforms, there’s always something that can get through.”

Steve smiled sympathetically and taped down the bandage. “Good to fly?”

“Sure, it’s not that bad. Just stings more than anything,” she replied stoically. “What about you, tough guy?”

Steve waved a hand. “I’ll be fine.”  _ I will be. I’ll be healed in no time flat. Too bad I don’t get any morphine like the rest of you...  _ There would be nothing to take the edge off. And this one  _ really _ hurt.

Natasha frowned but agreed, heading to the cockpit to start everything up. Clint and Thor weren’t too far behind, the archer draped over the prince’s shoulder as he landed from the sky. Both of them were dirty and scuffed, Thor’s armor covered in scorch marks and his skin marred with burns in places it was exposed. The demigod deposited Clint on the floor, and the archer limped over to the pilot’s seat, his pant leg charred.

Thor set his hammer on the floor of the jet and sat down heavily beside Steve as they took off. He looked haggard, which was odd. Usually he came away from a fight untouched, and slightly more energetic than when he’d started. This time, his rough night was still clear in his face. There were shot s all over his bare arms, and one on his neck. They looked painful and tender, but Steve could see they had already started healing. They’d be gone in a matter of hours.

He set his hand on the prince’s shoulder, careful of a nearby wound. Thor leaned into it. 

Everyone was quiet for the ride back. Steve deflected Fury’s calls, explaining  to the undercover director merely that the fight was over . Right now, his team needed him.  He could discuss details with the former SHIELD director later. 

“You should go get some sleep,” Steve suggested when they landed, and Thor offered to carry the gun and body to the lab for testing.

Thor simply hefted the body over his shoulder, wincing a little. “Tend the others.”

“Sam will help you. I’ll meet you in our room,” Steve used his Captain’s voice – it was an order. Sam hurried over to pick up the gun. A couple of shots had grazed him, but  he looked alright.

Bruce shuffled along, mumbling that if everything was under control, he was going to take a nap. Not before ordering Tony to go lie down in a dark room for a few hours, though. Natasha rolled her eyes and shook her head at Tony’s whines of protest, helping him up and making sure he didn’t walk into any walls. Steve took Clint’s arm and draped it over his shoulders, examining the archer’s leg. It didn’t look serious, just painful as the fabric of his suit rubbed the raw opening.

They were lucky. Steve could feel by the way his own burn seared that the shot was powerful enough to go right through his body if not for his reinforced suit protecting him. He kept his shield on his back to hide it while he helped Clint off with his pants and went to find some antiseptic and dressings. His own wound had already stopped bleeding, and there wasn’t anything that could be done for it anyway. Natasha wasn’t pestering him about it, but if the others saw they’d harass him to do something for it.  _ Nothing  _ to  _ be done, _ he thought bitterly as he sat next to Barton’s leg and loaded a syringe with morphine.  _ Nothin _ _ ’ to take the edge off. Nope.  _ _ Gotta _ _ tough through it. _

Fine, that was fine. He was a tough guy. He’d toughed through worse. Besides, Clint’s wound probably wouldn’t be fully healed for weeks by the looks of it. Steve’s would be gone in days. He shouldn’t be complaining.

“Thanks Cap, I’m  gonna conk out,” Clint yawned, eyes hazy with drugs and pain-free. Steve left him be, pulling a blanket across his friend’s body and going to check on the others. Sam was already back and helping Natasha with her arm.

“We got this, Steve,” Sam nodded. “We’re fine.”

“If you’re sure,” Steve agreed , hovering .

Natasha smiled at him softly. “Go.”

He went, passing Bruce deeply asleep on another bed. Tony must have returned to his own room. Steve noted to check on the inventor when he was finished with Thor. Something about Natasha’s silence had him believe that she was only letting him go because she trusted him  to  let Thor look at his back.

Not this time. On another day, he’d have been more open and honest, but now was the time for privacy. Thor was exhausted, clearly still pondering his dream. Despite his elated response to the battle, he’d quickly degenerated. Those guns had actually hurt him, and though the  damage was inconsequential, the pain it would cause him was surely notable.

Thor was in their room, sitting on the bed and gingerly sliding off his armor. Steve hurried over to help.

There would be no morphine for Thor, either. Steve knelt at the prince’s feet and slid off his boots, taking his pants by the  ankles and giving them a tug. The god watched him, rubbing some life into his eyes. “Are the others well?” he asked quietly, lifting his hips off the bed and pushing his thumbs under the hem of his pants to help push them off.

“Yeah, everyone’s okay,” Steve smiled, digging some jogging pants out of their drawer and tossing them over. The movement stretched his back, tugging apart raw skin and rubbing charred edges of his uniform into the opening. He winced.

“Are you well?” Thor asked as he put on his pants, standing up to walk over.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” Steve smiled reassuringly. “Took a hit, but I can take care of it. It’s superficial, just painful.” Lying would only raise suspicion, and it  _ really _ wasn’t serious.

Thor frowned, unconvinced. “Let me see.”

The Captain lifted an eyebrow. “Fine, but I got it covered, okay? I promise. Just this once, Thor. You look half dead, no offense. You first. Then I’ll go off to check on the others and slap something on it. You can get JARVIS to spy on me.”

It wasn’t Thor’s ideal plan, but there was no arguing that he was in worse shape.  _ That just doesn’t seem right... But you’ll be healed before me anyway.  _

Healed was one thing...

Without further argument, Thor obeyed and lay down in bed, staring expectantly upward. Steve sighed and removed his shield from his back, setting it on the floor and turning so his partner could see the mark on his shoulder. He hadn’t seen it yet himself, but the prince’s hiss led him to believe it wasn’t pretty. “Let me-”

“No,” Steve turned. “No. Just this once. You first. Get some rest, please. Thor, you’re exhausted.” That plea  was even more effective than his Captain’s voice.

“Very well,” Thor sighed and shut his eyes, sinking into the pillows. “But you must promise.”

“Promise,” he agreed rapidly. “I promise. Now just stay there. I’m going to get out of my suit.” The prince murmured a reply.  _ Okay, yeah... when you wake up after your nap, we’re fixing whatever this ‘ _ _ ragnarok _ _ ’ thing is. You’ve barely slept these past few days.  _ God or not, that was taking its toll, as well as the  accumulating  stress of the dream.

Steve slipped into the bathroom to get changed, loosening his suit as much as possible before peeling himself out of it. The thing was terribly snug, and something tore as he pulled it from his back.  _ Shit, that hurt... _ The sting was verging on unbearable.  _ Scratch that. Never mind just covering it, I need to track down something for this. _ Every movement tugged on it, every lift of his arm or twist of his spine. Even if he wasn’t moving, the burning sensation was unrelenting. Steve was tough, but this was bad even for him, even with the serum.

The serum hadn’t done much for his pain threshold. Sure, it had enhanced his mind and made it easier to block out things like pain with sheer willpower, but it couldn’t get rid of the pain entirely. Gritting his teeth, Steve turned to inspect his bare back in the mirror. It  _ was _ hideous, smeared with dried blood and leaking pale fluid.  _ Gross. _ But as he’d said, not serious. It didn’t look deep, just... broad.

Steve got changed into some jeans and the loosest shirt he could find, leaving his wound for later and bringing a bowl of cold water and some cloths with him from the kitchen. He found a flask of Asgardian liquor in the cabinet and snagged that as well. Upon second thought, he paused to take a sip of the stuff himself. Its warmth was often comforting, and the closest thing he had to medicine. The buzz would at least shave a layer off his pain. A very,  _ very  _ thin layer. 

Thor looked half asleep when he returned, laid out on his back with heavy-lidded eyes, staring into nothing. He looked troubled, and they both knew the torment that could be lying in wait the second he allowed himself to sleep.

“Jarvis, play that swing music Thor likes, please,” Steve sat on the edge of the bed and pushed the flask of alcohol into his partner’s hand.  _ Maybe that’ll be enough to anchor him in the real world, at least until I get  _ _ back. _ Soft swing bled into the room. It was their favorite music to dance to, particularly because Thor enjoyed the rhythm and energy of it. He’d immediately picked up the techniques, and loved to spin Steve around the room for far longer than a normal person could have sustained. 

The sound brought a soft smile to the prince’s lips. He sat up a little and took a sip of drink, watching Steve push cold cloths over his healing burns. A soothed sigh released through his lips.

“Feel good?” Steve murmured, and Thor nodded. “Good. I’ll be right back, okay? Stay right there.”

“ Indeed I will,” the demigod capped the flask and rested it beside him, laying back and getting comfortable.

Steve leaned over and gave his lips a kiss before hurrying off into the hallway. Medical couldn’t do much for him, but Tony probably could.  _ I need to check in on him anyway.  _ "Jarvis, is Tony still up?”

“Mister Stark is currently in his lab inspecting the gun you retrieved,” the AI reported, “despite my best efforts to dissuade him. Perhaps he will listen to you.”

_ Doubtful, _ Steve thought, hurrying into the elevator. Indeed, Tony was in his lab, a pair of goggles over his eyes, reaching into the gun with pliers. JARVIS let him in, and the Captain rapped his knuckles on the wall. “Tony, Bruce told you to go sleep. Turn that light off. It’s not good for your eyes.”

Tony turned off the lamp and pulled off his goggles, swiveling in his chair. “Don’t get your knickers in a twist, Spangles, I took some Tylonol, I’m fine.”

“Yeah, and you look it,” Steve frowned at the inventor’s squinting, pained expression and the ripe bruise on his head.

“You come down here just to harass me?” Tony leaned back in his chair and fiddled with a  screwdriver, eyebrows expectantly raised. “ Cus you’ll compound my headache.”

“That’s... that’s not a thing,” Steve frowned. “I came to check on you. And... and ask a favor.”

“Oh?” Tony set down his tool and straightened, intelligent stare picking apart Steve’s troubled demeanor. “What do you need, Cap?”

Steve bit his lip, a little embarrassed all of a sudden. “I- well, it’s not... it’s not serious. But... Thor’s napping – he's real worn out – and the others needed treatment, so I’ll be fine, if, well- you need the rest-”

“Oh my god, stop,” Tony lifted his hands, and Steve closed his mouth. “Okay, damn. You get hit?”

Steve nodded.

“Alright. Hurts, right?”

“Yeah,” the Captain admitted. “Yeah, it does.”

“There, not so hard was it,” Tony shook his head. “You’re a wreck.”

“At least I had the sense to go for help,” Steve scowled as he watched Tony dig around for his emergency supplies. The inventor was always playing around with stuff in his lab, and it was no t uncommon for him to burn or cut himself on his projects. As such, he had quite the array of remedies stashed away, and an artillery of creams Steve was starting to fantasize about. “You should be in bed, resting your eyes, not playing with technology. It could be dangerous.”

“You worry too much,” Tony scoffed. “Not the first time I’ve hit my head. Had worse.” He returned to his work bench with an armful of jars. “Sit.”

A chair was nudged in his direction. Steve sat backwards on it and peeled off his shirt with a wince. “So’ve I,” he muttered.

The shirt came off. Tony reached over to help him and sucked in a breath. “Christ almighty.” Steve just nodded weakly in agreement, leaning forward to pull the skin taught across his back. He gripped the chair as he heard the sound of containers opening. Tony  globbed a huge dollop of cold cream in the middle of the burn, and Steve yelped in surprise, eyes flying wide as the freezing substance connecting with flaming skin. The inventor wasted no time wiping it around with a gauze pad.

There were a few moments of silence between them as the cream took effect and Steve savored the sensation of relief. The medicine in his open  wound stung badly, but the cooling sensation on his burned skin was far superior.

“How’s Thor?” Tony asked suddenly, covering a wide radius of skin all around the epicenter of the blast mark. “He looked wiped. He okay?”

“He’s been dreaming a lot lately,” Steve replied.  _ Tony will know what to do.  _ "Nightmares. Really bad ones. Worse than mine. Something about... ragnarok. He looks terrified every time he talks about it. Said it was a prophecy of some kind, for the end of Asgard.”

He could practically hear Tony thinking behind him. “ Ragnarok ... that’s an apocalyptic word if I ever heard one.”

“He can’t sleep. I don’t know what to do,” Steve stared at the floor. It was a lot easier to think now that the pain was diminished to a mere background annoyance. Still, he had no idea how to handle this, or what the solution might be.

“Sounds like a magical problem to me,” Tony replied easily, as if that were obvious. “Just... take him to  Asgard .  As I’ve said , magic is just science we don’t understand, but it sounds like we don’t have the time to learn.”

Steve shook his head. No, they didn’t. “Yeah, maybe I should.”  _ Odin wouldn’t be too pleased, but I’m not sending him up there alone.  _ _ Thor _ _ ’d _ _ protect me, I know it.  _ The thought of meeting the  Allfather again was not a pleasant one, but he would put up with Odin’s scorn as much as necessary if it meant getting Thor the help he needed.  _ This is beyond Earth, and Earth treatments. Prophetic dreams that tear your mind apart and torment you when you sleep _ _ , _ _ so badly that it torments you when you’re awake, too? That’s not exactly something we can get a therapist for.  _

“One day you’ll take all of us up there, I’ll make sure of it,” Tony remarked matter-of-factly. “Consider it as payment in place of rent. And damages.”

“And the cream?” Steve smiled. 

“This one’s on me,” Tony boasted, as if he were a saint for it. 

“Well, unfortunately you might have to wait a while,” Steve continued. “Thor’s dad isn’t...  H e doesn’t like visitors.”

“I can always use my charm,” Tony shrugged, wiping his hands on a cloth and ripping open some dressing packages. He laid a gauze pad on the table and squirted  a different  lotion into it. “Hold still, this’ll sting like a bitch, but it’ll be worth it, trust me.”

Steve squeezed the chair a little harder and braced himself. Another cold substance touched his skin, and it  _ did _ sting, worse than  before. “Ss... mm.”

“Yup, just hang on a second or two,” Tony pushed the pad over the wound and taped it down.

_ Oh god... _ the stinging faded rapidly, leaving behind a dull tingle. The pain was almost gone. He went limp in the chair with contentment, careful not to move his shoulders while his friend finished dressing his wound.

“Feels good, huh?” Tony mentioned knowingly. “You know, you don’t have to put yourself through this sort of shit, Steve. I mean... you don’t have to do this forever.”

The last corner of gauze was taped down, and Steve turned to face the inventor with a frown, pulling his shirt back on. “Do... what?”

“The superhero thing,” Tony shrugged. “Run around in a suit, fight crime, kick ass, get hurt. You take hits like a champ, Cap, no doubt about it, but you don’t  have  to. I know you get sick of hurting all the time while the rest of us get to dope up on the good stuff. I can see it in your face.”

Trust the genius to see right through him. Steve sighed and smoothed out his shirt, lost. “I... don’t know where I’d go. Or what I’d do. It’s  kinda all this body’s good for. That’s why I have it, right?” He’d meant it as a rhetorical question, but it sounded so desperate that he stopped to ponder the answer himself.

“That’s a crock of shit,” Tony screwed the lid back on his lotions, which Steve noted were significantly emptier than before. “What, you think you don’t deserve a life because your country practically saved  it seventy years ago? They don’t own you. Besides, you’ve already died for this country once. Why not go live for yourself? Go explore the world. You have the time, and the resources. Hell, you could climb Everest if you wanted. Take Thor with you. He’d go. He’d follow you to Hell and back, and happily. Yeah,  you’re fighters, and too damn good to turn your back on people who could use your help, but dammit Steve, when was the last time you just  _ lived? _ "

Had he ever?  _ Yeah. In the thirties. Wasn’t much of a life, but it was mine. Yeah, there was the looming threat that a bad cold might finish me off, and I had no money to do anything or go anywhere, but I was happy. For the most part. _

“If it takes you that long to answer, the answer  ain’t good,” Tony stood over him, arms crossed. “You need a life.”

“Are you suggesting I retire?” Steve looked up, not sure how he felt about that. Confused, certainly.  _ What on Earth would I do if I retired? _

Tony shrugged. “Not necessarily. But I  _ am _ saying you deserve a life, and you deserve to be happy. If you’re happy here, great. I’m not trying to get rid of you. But if you ever want a few weeks off, months, a year, whatever. You don’t answer to anybody. And if you’re worried about the rest of us, well, we have Sam now.  Plus there’s this kid in Queens – anyway, we’d replace you no problem.” The inventor waved a nonchalant hand.

Steve grinned and huffed a laugh. “Thank you, Tony. I’ll pay you back someday, promise.” It was good to know that the team would do fine without him. He knew that extended to Thor, too.  _ Maybe someday. _

For now, his hurts were eased, and his spirits lifted. There was still a lot to think about, but it seemed a little less daunting. 

“ Wanna see what I found?” Tony gestured to the gun with his thumb.

Steve had almost forgotten about their mission today, which was ironic considering the huge reminder on his back. He stood up from his chair. “Uh, maybe. Jarvis, how’s Thor?”

There was a brief pause before the AI replied. “Lord Thor has fallen asleep, and appears peaceful.”

Steve gave Tony a nod. “In that case, sure. But brief. I should go back, just in case.”

“Brief it is,” the inventor agreed.

They reviewed the details Tony had uncovered, discovering that the weapon was in fact based on Iron Man’s  repulsors , but modified to do more damage. The heat was cranked up and the blast localized, dealing deep damage, but the heat from each shot radiating a long way out and affecting a wide radius of tissue around the impact side. It was a terribly devastating weapon. Stave rubbed his shoulder as he looked at the gun, enjoying a ghost ache despite Tony’s magic cream effectively removing the pain.

On the other hand, the goons were just normal humans, despite how they had performed in battle. That was a relief. Tony hadn’t found any signs of enhancements in the blood samples JARVIS had analyzed, other than traces of a drug used to block out pain. That would explain why some of those soldiers had gotten back up, despite suffering grievous injury. Without pain to stop them, the only thing that could keep them down was death, or the failed structural integrity of limbs. Steve knew all too well how far the body could go when pain wasn’t a factor. He’d pushed through all kinds of terrible pain, forcing damaged limbs to do what he needed them for.

The threat was over, anyway. Steve collected some data to p ass on to Fury , and took his leave. Not before ordering Tony to get some shut-eye first, though.

“Yeah, whatever, Captain Bossy,” Tony waved him off. “Come back for more cream if the pain picks up again.”

“I should be over the worst of it by then,” Steve replied confidently. “But thanks. Tell Thor I was good.”

“Only if you let me stay up as late as I want.”

“What are you, five?”

“In my heart,” Tony shooed him. “Go, I have  genius stuff to do.”

Steve lifted his hands and shut the door behind him. It was back to check on Thor. At least the man was resting. Maybe he should have brought up some of Tony’s cream for him...

“Captain Rogers, Mr. Wilson is placing a dinner order and has  asked I add your request to the list. What shall I get for you?” JARVIS interrupted his thoughts.

“Uh...” Food, right. He should eat. Thor too.

“I will add your usual order,” JARVIS patiently interjected, and Steve realized he’d been standing silently in the middle of the corridor for too long .

“Oh, yeah, sure, that’d be great, thank you.”

“Of course,” the AI went silent.

He started off again, eager to be curl ed up in bed with  Thor . What if one day, they were sharing that bed somewhere else, in their own house, maybe? Back on Asgard? The second was unlikely, given Odin’s presence, but Steve realized that theoretically, he and Thor  _ could _ buy a house.  _ Theoretically I could do a lot of things. _ Could he truly leave this team behind, leave aside his mantle, put down his shield? And even if he could, did he  _ want _ to? And what about Thor? Neither of them  were cut out for the domestic life. They would get bored.

Or perhaps not. Steve scratched his shoulder, grateful for Tony’s expensive creams. The pain was already starting to come back, but the worst was behind him. By the time the cream wore off, the raw pain would be bearable.

Tony was  _ right, _ he was sick of carrying home battle injuries that couldn’t be treated with pain medicines effective enough to count. It wasn’t about feeling good enough to protect himself , it was just about... about not feeling  _ sore. _

_ What am I  _ _ thinking _ _ . My friends will be getting over their own injuries for much longer than me. I shouldn’t complain. I never get sick. I don’t scar. I’ve suffered all kinds of injuries that should have killed or crippled me. Fuck, I should be dead, not just from the ice. _

_ Without the ice, I wouldn’t have Thor. Without the serum, I wouldn’t have a literal god waiting for me in bed. I wouldn’t have this family. _

He’d been destined for war without the serum. But at least with the serum he could do the damage his scrawny, sickly body never could. Steve slumped to the elevator, well aware that had his pre-serum body taken that shot in the back, even with a suit, it’d have killed him. Probably.  _ I shouldn’t be complaining. Pick yourself up, Rogers. Brush yourself off, keep  _ _ goin _ _ ’. You’re made of tougher stuff than this. _

_ Crunch _ , someone’s foot stepped on a little piece of grit on the floor. Steve whirled around, and there was Bucky, standing hesitantly in the hallway behind him, frozen solid and his haunted eyes plastered with guilt. Rather amusingly, he looked like a deer in headlights, eyes widening and darting side to side as if searching for shelter to dive behind. He’d clearly been sneaking up on Steve, but not with the intent to harm.

“B-Buck,” Steve resisted the urge to rush over to this friend and wrap him in a tight hug. He barely contained the grin working across his face and the tears fighting to free themselves from his chest. It had been a long day. It was hard, but he managed to stay calm, relaxing his muscles in an attempt to seem as  unthreatening as possible. 

The assassin was dressed in on of Steve’s shirts and a pair of jeans Steve had bought specifically for his homeless friend. He looked a little better than when they’d last spoken, cleaner, and his shirt filled with healthy bulk. His hair was brushed though still a little ragged, and his eyes were weary and sleepless.  H is skin was almost snowy white from lack of exposure. Bucky slowly drew his limbs into himself, except his metal arm, which hung uselessly at his side. The limb must have succumbed to its malfunctions. It looked heavy and painful, the way it was dragging Bucky’s whole body sideways. 

“What... what you doin’ out here?” Steve finally asked. “I mean... not that... you can go where you want. Are you okay? What-”

Bucky’s lip curled and his shoulders hunched, looking like he might bolt for a moment. His voice was raspy and unused when he butted in. “Shut up,” was the growled response.

Steve shut up. He sealed his lips together tightly and held still, terribly confused. It seemed they were both in the same boat in that regard. He waited patiently for the follow-up, watching his friend’s expression work through a jumble of emotions.

“There was a fight,” Bucky spat out. Was he asking...?

“Y-yeah, a few hours ago,” Steve confirmed. “In the streets.”  _ Jarvis must have told him. That or he saw it on the news. _

“You got hit.”

“Yeah. We all did. It was a tough fight,” Steve agreed, his heart squeezing so hard he wondered if the serum had somehow failed him suddenly, returned to him his faulty heart. It certainly felt like a tremor.

“Dumb punk,” Bucky grit out, and the words more leapt out of his mouth than were spoken. They hardly seemed contemplated on, and both of them were surprised by their arrival. Steve clamped his jaw shut to stop it from gaping, and Bucky stared at him with wide and confused eyes. Neither of them had moved, still locked in their stances with just a handful of feet separating them. It felt like a chasm.

“Jerk...” Steve breathed.  _ Shit, I’m  _ _ gonna _ _ cry. No. Don’t. Not now. Not here.  _ This was the most they’d talked since Bucky’s arrival here. No way was he risking it  now. Captain America summoned all his willpower and sealed his tears away.

“You’re okay,” Bucky growled again. Was it a threat, a question? A confirmation? Whatever it was, it was probably meant to sound a whole lot different. Instead, those sentiments that might have otherwise been touching were warped by confusion into something familiar and safe – anger. That was fine by Steve. Bucky had come out of his room, out of the safety of his own space to  _ check on him, _ make sure he was okay.  _ Just like the  _ _ ol _ _ ’ days. _

“Yeah, I am,” Steve couldn’t hold back his grin this time. “Had worse. I’ll sleep it off.”

Bucky snorted, sliding one foot back and lowering his stance, leaning backward. He looked overwhelmed, ready to bolt, but confused by himself. Confused by the words that seemed to be coming out of his mouth on auto-pilot. The  _ words _ were right, but the tone was still very guarded and threatening. “Never did know how to run from a fight, did you.” It sounding more like a dislodged fragment of memory related to the topic at hand than an actual response to Steve. Steve rolled with it.

“Nope, some things never change,” Steve chuckled, and the end of the sound warped by a building sob.

The growl that came from deep inside Bucky’s throat was actual aggression, instead of another emotion coming out wrongly-expressed. Before Steve could stop him, the assassin turned and ran, nimble despite his useless arm. The assassin’s threshold had been reached.

Steve stood speechless in the hallway, a couple of tears escaping through his barriers and dripping off his chin onto the floor. It was progress.

“Mister Barnes has returned to his suite,” JARVIS interjected. “He appears to be distressed, but not in  harm’s way. Would you like me to monitor him?”

Steve shook his head to clear it and wiped at his eyes. “N-no, that’s okay. Just... maybe check in and make sure he’s okay. Thanks, Jarvis.”

“Of course.” The AI sounded almost tender there for a moment. “Dinner has arrived. I will have Mister Wilson deliver your portion to your suite. Shall I wake Lord Thor?”

“No, that’s okay, let him sleep,” Steve waved a hand. He’d wake Thor himself when the food got there, unless of course the demigod was resting deeply enough.  _ Let him get his rest while he can, while it’s peaceful. We don’t know how much worse these dreams will get. Let him sleep through the pain, at least.  _ Steve jogged to the elevator, making haste to his suite, and their room.

There was so much to worry about...  _ Bucky, Thor’s dreams, Tony’s proposal... shit, Tony, I’ll have to tell him... _

Too much. He needed to consult someone. Natasha would know what to do. She was in that bunker with him when they found the information. She could advise him about Tony’s offers of taking a break, too. Unfortunately, he had a feeling there was little anyone here on Earth could do about Thor’s nightmares. It wasn’t just something they could fend off and overcome, like they had with Steve’s nightmares of the ice. It didn’t appear there was anything  _ to _ overcome, no past traumas resurging. No, just a curse. Steve had changed his mind; he didn’t care what Thor called it, a prophecy or whatever. It was a  _ curse. _ For the trouble and hurt it was causing, it deserved such a title.

Steve decided to tackle his  I tinerary From Hell in the morning, with a full belly and a good night’s rest. The food was here. Sam dropped it off, making no effort to conceal his concern.

“You okay?” he asked.

Steve sighed. “I think so. Not sure I want to stop and think about it.”

“Thor okay? Seems weird to ask,  but, you know... he looked really tired.” Sam peered into the room to try and catch a glimpse of the prince and see for himself.

“Yeah, he’s pretty wiped, but he’ll be okay,” Steve smiled sadly.  _ Let’s it keep it that way. Before these nightmares destroy  _ _ him _ _ . _

“Good. Get some rest Steve, okay?”

“I will,” he replied earnestly. “You too. Keep an eye on everyone for me, will you?”

“Don’t have to ask,” Sam gave a salute. “Natasha and I are on it.”

Steve returned the salute and bid his goodbye, shutting the door behind him. He set the food on the table and wandered into the bedroom.  Swing music was still playing softly in the background.  Thor was there, sprawled on his side, utterly inert as he breathed deeply into the pillows. The cool cloths had fallen off his burns, revealing tender but improved skin underneath. Steve gathered the clothes and wetted them again, draping them back in place without disturbing the slumbering prince. Thor heaved a deep sigh that sounded content, at least, but didn’t stir. Steve drew the blanket up to his waist and smiled softly to himself as he admired the prowess of his partner’s resting body, the way his chest swelled with each deep breath. He brushed his hand across Thor’s arm, drawing his fingers across swells of muscle wrapped around long arms. All that power, and it was his.  _ Mine. _

There it came again, the strange sensation, the warm tingle. That was the only way he could describe it. It was very unfamiliar, and though not unpleasant, it was frightening. Steve found his fingers were trembling a little as he stroked thick blonde locks back from Thor’s cheek and leaned down to kiss his ear. The prince’s hair was getting quite long. Come to think of it, Steve could use a haircut himself. His forelock was nearly in his eyes when it flopped forward. He pushed it back and delivered one last kiss his oblivious partner’s soft cheek before returning to the kitchen for some dinner. When he was finished, he put the leftovers in the fridge and came back to bed, lifting Thor’s arm up so he could slide himself into the demigod’s clutches. There was no pause between getting settled and Thor’s grip tightening protectively around his waist.

_ Let’s hope this is a good night.  _ _ For your sake and mine _ _ ,  _ Steve thought as he drifted off to sleep, his head tucked under Thor’s chin.  _ Maybe the morning will bring answers and clarity. _


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your comments, as always! They give me life.

Yesterday’s battle had worn everybody out. Steve rose with the sun and left Thor peacefully sleeping in their bed, prying himself from the demigod’s embrace and heading for the communal floor. Miraculously, his partner had slept soundlessly through the night, not as deeply as he could have, but deep enough. His burns were gone by morning.

Steve’s itched something terrible, but Tony’s creams had gotten him through the worst of the pain, so the sting wasn’t so bad that he couldn’t  wall it away behind determination. As such, he set about making some breakfast for his less-fortunate friends.

The sound of footsteps arrived shortly after he began filling a bowl with eggs, and his heart leapt in his chest, expecting –  _ hoping _ – it would be Bucky standing there when he turned around. Instead it was Clint, disheveled and yawning, limping a little, but better than yesterday.

“ ’sup Cap,” the archer rubbed his eyes and came to help.

“You’re up early,” Steve greeted his friend and slid over some ingredients for pancakes. Clint took the hint and started measuring on auto-pilot.

“Yeah, well, slept like the dead with those drugs in me. Then I woke up and felt pretty well-rested, so here I am. Don’t expect me to go for a run with you though. This is a one-time thing.”

“Looks like you won’t be running anywhere for a little while. How is it?” Steve turned on the stove and laid out some frying pans.

“Burns like Hell, but I’ve had worse,” Clint shrugged and whisked his batter with an agile hand. Steve nodded understandingly.

The rest of the team slowly filed out, even Tony, who tried to pretend he’d just been sleeping. Bruce didn’t buy it.  _ Nobody _ bought it. Thor was the last to arrive, yawning loudly and stomping into the communal area dressed in the pants he’d slept in plus a rumpled shirt that barely fit him. If he noticed the others scanning him over, he didn’t comment on it.

Clint slid a large stack of pancakes onto a plate, which Steve garnished with some scrambled eggs, sliding the pile over to the bleary-eyed demigod with a smile.  _ He looks a lot better, at least. Not quite right... but better. _ Those dark rings of torment under his eyes were faded, but still present. One decent night’s sleep wouldn’t be enough to erase how much this reoccurring dream was torturing him.

Everyone had things to do. Bruce went off with Tony to help him dissect the gun, figuring if he couldn’t make the inventor rest, he could at least keep an eye on him. Thor was still finishing off whatever food was left when Natasha dragged Steve to one side, Clint and Sam with her.

“You just worry about him, okay? We’ll  make sure to get all the info to Fury ,” Natasha smiled at him. “ Thor needs you.”

Steve couldn’t turn down that offer. He nodded gratefully. It would be good to spend the day with Thor, and make a plan for what to do about these dreams. Everything else could wait. Steve walked back to the kitchen and slid his hands up the prince’s back, resting them on his shoulders and giving firm muscle a squeeze. “How’d you sleep?”

“Well enough,” Thor pushed away his empty plate and reached up to take Steve’s hands, tipping back his head. The Captain leaned over and gave him a kiss. The moment was criminally brief; Thor’s expression tightened with seriousness. “I fear it will not last. Something must be done.”

“I know. We’ll fix it,” Steve agreed. “Whatever it takes, right?”

At that, Thor frowned, sitting up so he could turn in his chair and stand up. He reached for Steve’s hands and held them in his own slightly larger ones, strong thumbs rubbing over his knuckles. There was guilt in the prince’s eyes, along with fear and longing. “I know what I must do.”

“What?” Steve squeezed back, concerned and a little fearful himself. “What is it? You’re scaring me.”

The prince’s eyebrows pushed upward, and he stared on in guilty sadness. He spoke with conviction. “I must go, back to Asgard, and then to find Surtur. I must take his crown and hide it away to prevent  R agnarok. It is the only way.”

Steve stared back, confused. “Surtur? What? Thor, no, we do this together-”

“No,” Thor’s voice dropped lower, quieter, more desperate. They were almost the same height, but the prince leaned over to close that distance, wrapping his hands around Steve’s face and cupping his cheeks. “No. You said whatever it takes.  _ This _ is what it takes. I must do this. It is my duty as prince of  Asgard to be rid of this evil before it can destroy my kingdom and everything-” his voice caught in his throat, tears welling in his eyes glistening like waves under a warm sun , “ e verything I love.”

It wasn’t the answer he wanted, not at all.  _ Come with me. Come help me defeat this threat. You and I, together.  _ That’s what he’d  hoped to hear . Steve shook his head firmly, too taken by the anguish in Thor’s eyes to be stern, but managing to be firm at least. “No. We do this together. Just like everything else. Just like we did on  Sakaar , and when we looked for the Tesseract, and fought the dark elves. Just like you helped me move on and accept the past, Thor, just like you helped me  _ live. _ I wouldn’t have this without you. I can’t watch you walk out that door-”

“You must,” it was hurting Thor just as much. His tears were soaking into his beard and clouding his weary eyes. “You must, Steve. I must stop  R agnarok, and I must keep you as far from it as I can, because  Asgard is no longer my home –  _ you  _ are. And I cannot risk losing that. Not after-” he swallowed roughly- “not after losing so much. I need you here, safe. So that I know I can return home to you.”

“We can fight this, together,” Steve pleaded, unwilling to give up. “Please. What about me? How will I know you’re okay?”

“I will be,” Thor smiled, his lips damp. “And you will know. I will always be with you, and you will always be with me. The bond we share cannot be broken, nor can it be stretched regardless of the distance that may come between our physical forms. I will end this  evil, I swear it to you. Then I will return. But you must stay here, and stay safe. Protect the others, let them protect you, and by Odin’s beard, let me protect you from this.”

“That’s not fair,” Steve whispered, but he knew he had already lost this fight. “Thor, that’s not fair. You can’t... I can’t lose anything else, please...”

“You’re not losing me,” Thor rubbed his thumbs into Steve’s cheeks, which were suddenly damp as well. “You are not losing me, Steven. I will return. I promise on my life, on my honor, on Mjolnir. On my love for you.  _ Please.  _ If  R agnarok is truly destined to come, then I must have you as far from it as possible.”

_ You took care of me when I was sick and hurt and broken. You swept me off my feet and steadied me so many times, and I promised myself I’d do the same for you. But I can’t. I can’t give you what you gave me.  _ Steve opened his mouth, but he couldn’t find any words. Thor’s face was soaked with tears of sorrow and regret. The prince closed his eyes and pulled Steve into his chest, wrapping his slightly larger body around the soldier and holding him tightly, protectively. His hands roamed longingly up and down Steve’s back, searching the muscles with reverence.

“You are too good to simply accept this,” Thor whispered weakly into his shoulder, croaked with tears. “But you must. You must, Steve. I will return, and you can care for me then, in any way you desire. We can do whatever you want, just the two of us. I will go where you want, do what you want. I will give you everything I have.”

Thor’s promise sounded desperate, like there was something else lying beneath, something beyond this cursed quest. Steve wasn’t sure what was going on, or what he was picking up on, but that strange indescribable desire was back. “I love you,” he said into the pulse of Thor’s neck. “I love you.”

“I love you,” the prince repeated, voice thick with promise.

Everything felt wrong.

\--

Thor was gone. He’d left that afternoon, gathering his things and calling on Heimdall to open a portal. In a flash of brilliant light, the prince had been whisked away, leaving Steve standing alone on top of the tower, empty.

_ He’ll get done whatever he has to do, and he’ll come back. Then this will all be over. We can... we can do whatever we want.  _ Whatever they wanted...? Steve looked up at the sky, imagining what those things might be. He would have some time to think, anyway. Thor had explained that he could be gone for months.  _ I can’t mope around. I have to do something with myself. The team still needs me. _ Yet Steve couldn’t find it in himself to move from the rooftop. 

“Steve...?” He turned, and there stood Natasha,  eyebrows upturned. “Did he go?” she asked quietly.

“Yeah,” Steve sniffed and rubbed his nose self-consciously. 

“He’ll be back,” she replied swiftly, firmly. “He will. You know it.”

Thor would be. And Steve  _ did _ know it. He just couldn’t stand feeling so helpless and lost, without an anchor.

No, he had this family. Natasha opened her arms for him, and he settled into them. She was so much smaller than him, but  strength that transcended her body seeped out of her embrace and into his heart. She squeezed him tightly, then pulled away and took his hand, gently bringing him back inside. 

The team had to press on. It wasn’t the first time Thor had taken a leave of absence. But it was the first time that Steve had felt true fear, because he didn’t know  _ where  _ Thor had gone. This quest could take him anywhere, and would be dangerous. That was certain. And if the demigod were forced to face up against anything even close to the terrors that had plagued his dreams... Suffice to say, Steve would rather be there to help.

But he understood why his partner wouldn’t want him there. Steve was strong; he was a skilled warrior, and had the serum to protect him, but he wasn’t a god. Thor wasn’t perfect, but he was  _ so much _ stronger than Steve. He could handle exponentially more damage, and deal it right back.  _ He’ll be fine. I won’t do either of us any good by worrying. _ Their connection that bridged over Mjolnir was still there, the healthy thrum of Thor’s raw presence filtering across it, pulsing with life and confidence. Steve nudged it gently, schooling his emotions and projecting only his warm wishes and love, keeping worry to himself. Thor nudged back with his own similar sentiments, and they were reassuring.  _ He’ll be fine. He’ll be fine. _

Natasha invited him to spar with her, picking up on his agitation immediately. They spent a long and arduous afternoon in the gym together, Black Widow teaching him more of her vicious take-downs. 

Both Natasha and Sam tried to convince him to join the team for dinner, but he wasn’t in the mood and gently turned them down, explaining that he had some work to do for Fury. It was entirely unconvincing, but his friends let him have his space, clearly sensing he needed it.

Steve took his leave, shutting the door behind him and instantly sinking in swallowing silence. Thor wasn’t here, and wouldn’t be for who-knew how long. The soldier took slow, measured paces into the living area, past the kitchen, and finally into the bedroom. He walked past the paintings of Earth animals and landscapes that Thor loved so much, some that he’d done himself, and others he’d purchased. He walked to the perfectly made bed and sat gingerly on top of the smooth sheets, staring at the closet. The door was open a crack, and he could see a white accent of his uniform gleaming through.

What would he do, if not this? Where would he go?

_ What do I want? _ Sam had asked him before the fall of SHIELD, and he still wasn’t sure. If he stayed indefinitely as an Avenger, would it be out of duty, or true desire? Steve couldn’t deny the urge to fight and protect which had burned inside him since he could remember. He  _ needed _ the fight. Even if he didn’t contain any need for adrenaline rushes, it wouldn’t as easy as just... stepping aside.  _ People need me. I was made to protect. Erskine gave me the serum for a reason. I have to do whatever I can with it. _ Sometimes that meant fighting aliens. Sometimes it meant raiding terrorist bases. Sometimes it meant taking on missions simply too dangerous for anyone else, because his body could take it. If something went wrong, he could survive mortal hits and still get the job done. He could run and run and  _ fight  _ until the goal was achieved, until evil was defeated. Captain America didn’t retire. Didn’t give up, or stand down. Steve Rogers had never stood down either.

_ Up and  _ _ at’um _ _ , soldier. Work to do.  _ Steve set his jaw and rose from the bed. Even if he decided he was done right here on the spot, there were still things to do before then. He went to the kitchen to make some dinner, the Winter Soldier’s files spread out before him.

\--

He barely slept a wink.

Everything was jumbling together. He was on the train, his body freezing inside-out, the support beneath his feet vanishing as Bucky pushed him off. He reached for help, but the Winter Soldier just flashed him a dark, vengeful smile and smacked his reaching hands away with a loveless metal hand.

So he fell, flailing, screaming, begging. He fell and fell and fell, knowing the ground was rushing toward him and would eventually crush him. The train was far away now, and darkness was wrapping around his body, eating up whatever light remained as evening encroached upon the sun’s hopeful light. Steve waited to be swallowed, because there was nothing else to be done.

An object sailed down past him, heavy and shiny. Hope claimed his heart as he reached for the familiar shape, but that hope was torn away so viciously that for a moment he thought he might be physically bleeding. No, just in pain. The hammer fell into the black void, vanishing. There was no help. Thor wasn’t coming for him, wouldn’t rise from the shadows in a crackling ball of blue light and snatch him free of this nightmare. Thor wasn’t coming to carry him to safety.

Thor was dead. The shadows had almost consumed Steve when another body blocked out the rest of the light and smashed into his, heavy and lifeless, but slick with more blood than he was certain a body could contain.

Just like that, they landed. It was painful and jarring, but that didn’t matter. Steve pushed the body off of him, rolled Thor onto his back and loomed over him, searching his partner’s open eyes for a sign of life. There was none. There was  _ nothing.  _ Once-radiant blue irises were a dull, glassy grey. There was no pulse when he searched for one, not even a last fading beat. There was no warmth, no hope. Thor was long-dead. It was far too late to save him, too late to bring him back.

The prince’s glorious body was torn to pieces, ripped beyond what any being could sustain. Not even the god of thunder could recover from this. Desperation hung thick in the air, choking Steve as he placed his hands over Thor’s still chest. There was nothing to be done. He’d been too late. It was over. Whatever had happened, he’d missed it, hadn’t been there when he was needed. And now Thor was dead.

The two of them were enveloped in black. There was no light, yet  somehow he could still see Mjolnir sitting a few paces away, resting on the ground with its hilt pointing upward. Usually the ancient Asgardian weapon seemed to be waiting for him, calling out for his touch and his command. It was alive, singing to him. Only instead of a warm tune buzzing with energy, it taunted him.

_ Too late. Not enough. You are but a man. A fragile soul in a mortal body. You cannot protect all that you love. No-one can. Not even the great Captain America. If a legend like you cannot save those you care for, what hope does anyone else have? Yes, come. Come and try. Try to recover what is long-gone. _

Steve did. He staggered to his feet and reached for the hammer, calling it to him. It sat where it had fallen, unmoving, cackling as he strained. Steve wrapped trembling fingers around the hilt, knowing that if he could just get the hammer in Thor’s hand, that maybe there was still a chance... a chance the demigod could call upon his power and recover, could  _ live. _

Only the hammer wouldn’t budge. It remained right where it was, impossibly heavy, goading him.

_ Not enough. Little Steve. You may have a larger body, but you will always be small and insignificant. You will never be more than that scrawny, sickly boy with dreams he could never attain. You will always be weak, regardless of the masks you wear, or the suit that covers you. _

No, he wouldn’t believe it. Steve grit his teeth. He wouldn’t. Part of him knew this wasn’t real, that it was a manifestation of his fears. He stood in the pit of endless black and let go of Mjolnir, trying to ground himself. That was difficult, even in this hyper-realistic dream world enhanced by his own anxiety and the serum. So he fell back to what had grounded him in the past when these nightmares had seized him – Thor.

Thor might be dead, but his voice was unmistakable, booming all around. The very air crackled with the power of the demigod’s own conviction, warm and stimulating. “Pick it up. I know you can.”

Steve held his hand out, hovering and hesitant. The hammer didn’t want him.

“You are worthy, I know it. Pick it up.”

He tried. He called for it, opening his mind to listen for Mjolnir’s call. It wasn’t working. Thor’s body lay motionless, devastated beyond repair. Steve couldn’t look – it hurt too much – but he couldn’t tear his eyes away now that they’d glanced back. The person who had so kindly helped him adjust to this new world and become his friend without any expectation for the same in return was dead. Gone. He’d lost it all, again.

“Pick it up.”

He couldn’t. Mjolnir wasn’t having it, reveling in his desperation.

“ _ Pick it up! _ " It was an order. A request. A plea.  _ Pick it up, for me. _

Steve picked it up. The hammer had deemed him worthy.  _ Thor _ had deemed him  _ more _ .  _ I love you. _

The shadows were undulating ominously. Something was coming. Steve crouched protectively over Thor’s unsalvageable body, brandishing Mjolnir tightly in his hand. He called for its power, lighting up the black with cerulean light. A memory of great power surged through him as he asked for all the hammer had to give. In a moment, he was clad in Asgardian battle armor, a silver star shining proudly on his chest and a bright blue cape fluttering behind him. He stood tall and strong, wielding this godly amount of power as the darkness crept back to claim him, and all the monsters with it.

It wasn’t enough. All this power, and it  _ wasn’t enough _ . The monster s came in throngs, from all sides. They dragged the body from him, throwing it into the void. Then they came for him, ripping and tearing and pushing through his defenses. Even with the serum, even with Mjolnir and all it could give him, it wasn’t enough.

It wasn’t enough.

He bolted awa ke with a sweaty gasp, shoving the blankets off himself and rolling to face the other side of the bed – it was empty.

Steve sighed and stared at the spot where Thor should be, reminding himself of where he was and what was real. “Jarvis, lights ten percent,” he croaked shakily, clutching the blankets.  _ Thor’s alive, I’m alive. He’ll come home, and this will all be over. _

There was no way he would fall back asleep after that. Steve threw off the blankets and stumbled to the dresser in the dim light. He grabbed the first shirt his hand touched and tugged it on ungracefully, making for the door.

“Captain, you appear distressed,” the AI commented. “Mister Stark is currently in his lab. Shall I let him know you’re coming?”

“N-no,” Steve shook his head, simply forgetting to put shoes on. “No, I’m alright.” He could practically feel skepticism in the silence the AI replied with.

He needed to work off his anxiety. Steve went to the gym as he so often had in the past, lifting a battered punching bag off the floor and hooking it to the ceiling. He squared off with it and drove a hard punch into the rough material. The soft skin over his knuckles protested – he'd forgotten to wrap them in his haste, and nearly didn’t bother.  _ No.  _ He had to take care of himself. It didn’t matter if the serum would heal his skin perfectly by morning if he tore his hands bloody. There was no need for it. Steve walked to the lockers and found where he kept his stuff, wrapping up his smooth, unblemished hands. The serum had thickened his skin and toughened his bones, but with it, it was practically impossible to form calluses. He could beat punching bags with his bare knuckles every single day, and they would always heal over with smooth, perfect skin.

Thor’s hands were much thicker than his. It was an odd  thing, how different their hands were given that they were both similar in build. Thor’s fingers were broader, the skin rough and marred from centuries of hard battle. Steve’s hands were big, almost as big as Thor’s, but his fingers were longer and slenderer. And they fit perfectly between Thor’s.

Sometimes when he looked at his hands, he could imagine that he was small again. Steve clenched his fists. It had taken some time to get used to this body, but wouldn’t ever go back, even if he could. He punched the punching bag until it flew off the hook and exploded, all the stuffing spilling onto the floor. That final strike felt so good, as  it always did. It made him feel capable.

“You used to be smaller.”

Steve turned around the second he heard that familiar voice. There was Bucky, standing by the wall, a photo in his flesh hand hanging limp at his side. “I did,” Steve confirmed quietly.

“I remember,” Bucky clutched his head and growled out the words, crumpling the photograph in his hand.

“Hey, easy,” Steve put up his hands and started to walk over, but the assassin slid a foot behind him and leaned onto it, tensing defensively. Steve froze. “It’s okay. I’m sorry...”

“You... you were up late all the time. In the camp. You hardly ever slept.” Bucky lowered his hand, and Steve caught a glimpse of the photo crumpled in it – it was an old black-and-white one from the early days with the Howling Commandos. Everyone was in it, and everyone was happy, smiling and laughing. If he remembered correctly, Peggy had taken it candid.

“Didn’t need the sleep,” Steve confirmed quietly. “Got restless. You were always on me for it.”

Bucky’s forehead creased with thought as he searched his memories, staring distantly into another dimension. Steve waited patiently, keeping his mouth shut but taking a daring step forward. The assassin’s eyes snapped onto him, but that was it. He allowed the approach, and Steve continued very slowly, lifting his hand to take the photograph from his friend. It was painful to maintain those few respectful inches between them, as his body fought to simply envelop his friend in a tight hug.

Steve smoothed out the photo and smiled at it. There he was, enjoying something one of the other men had said, his mouth open in an easy laugh. Bucky was beside him, smiling too, eyes cast his way. It was a good memory. He hardly needed a picture to remember it, but it was nice to see himself so happy. And young. He knew he hadn’t physically aged a day since then, but his eyes had. 

Bucky reached out and plucked the photo from his fingers, repossessing it almost aggressively.  _ Almost. _ Something else was trying to come through, trying to break through the bricks the Winter Soldier had laid around the man beneath. It was fondness, Steve thought, or something similar. Something pleasant. Bucky’s eyes quickly moved from Steve to himself, unblinking and lost. A reasonable amount of confusion froze his expression as he tried to link himself to that cheerful young man yet to be unmade.

Bucky’s thumb settled over his left arm in the picture, tracing its length. Steve glanced at Bucky’s metal limb, still limp and useless at his side.

“You know... my friend can fix your arm for you,” Steve said gently.

Bucky flinched, his fingers crumpling the photo again and his breathing accelerating. He said nothing.

Steve tried desperately to think how to phrase himself, to imagine what his friend might be thinking and fearing. “If you want. He won’t hurt you. Nobody will strap you down or make you do anything you don’t want. And you can always change your mind.”  _ Your choice. All of it. _

_ Maybe he can’t remember how to make his own choices. _

Wrong. Bucky was here. He’d chosen to come on his own accord, once to check up on him in the hallway, and now, for whatever reason. He was clearly getting nowhere with the arm, so Steve dropped it and changed topics. “Why’d you come down here?”

Bucky didn’t seem to know either, shoulders loosening a little as the touchy subject was abandoned, but his confusion returning. “Dunno. Thought I remembered something. Computer man said you were here.”

_ Jarvis... _ The AI was definitely Tony Stark’s creation, capable of being so sneaky and clever. Clearly, JARVIS had sent Bucky his way, though for whose sake it wasn’t clear. Either way, Bucky’s memories had stirred, and he was here, seeking... Seeking aid? Comfort? An anchor?

“What do you remember?” Steve asked quietly.

“You,” the answer came a lot faster than he’d expected, faster than Bucky himself seemed to have expected too. “Your... mother. Sarah. It was a tough winter. We had hot coffee at your house.”

Steve nodded. The memory was hazy for him, but he remembered the bitter taste of hot coffee pumping a little life into his sick body. “I was twelve, you were thirteen. We weren’t sure I’d make it, but I pulled through. You got me through another bout of pneumonia, and got your hands on some coffee to celebrate. Made me feel better. You never did tell me how much it cost to get it.”

He must have knocked some more memories loose. Bucky frowned, but recognition started unwinding his expression almost right away. He stared at the photo in his hand, then looked back up at Steve and made firm, unwavering eye contact. For a moment, there was a little bit of the man he used to know shining through everything HYDRA had lathered over top. “You’re a pain in my ass.”

“Yeah,” Steve smiled, and right then he was a kid again, holed up in their tiny apartment just the two of them, struggling to make ends meet but getting by.

Bucky didn’t say anything, staring back down at the photo with distant eyes, lost among memories. Steve gave him a few moments before reaching out his hand.

“Hey, come on. I  wanna show you something.” He smiled invitingly. His friend stared at the hand as if it were something too bizarre to comprehend. Steve drew it back and awkwardly put it in his pocket, walking to the door. To his relief, Bucky’s footsteps followed mere moments later, shuffling hesitantly along behind.

Steve took him up the elevator to the communal floor, which was empty. Thank goodness. No-one was up to get late-night snacks tonight. He passed by the fridge and drew out two beer bottles, even though he knew neither of them would be affected by the alcohol. It didn’t matter. He brought them to the sliding glass doors and stepped out onto the balcony, leaning against the railing and turning invitingly toward to spot beside him. Obediently, Bucky approached and stood rigidly at his side, as if awaiting an order.

There were no orders to give. Steve popped the top off one bottle and offered it over. The assassin stared at it with that same puzzled look, but eventually did wrap his fingers around the cold glass. A fragment of recollection passed over his expression, and his posture went lax.  _ That’s it. We used to do this sometimes, get our hands on a beer and sit out on top of our building to watch the stars. It was quiet, and the breeze was nice in the summer. We’d talk for hours, long after our drinks were empty. _

Bucky didn’t take a sip until Steve did, watching carefully and hesitantly following suit. They stood there on the balcony, Steve looking down at the city buzzing far below and all around them, trying not to focus on his friend without ignoring him completely. It was difficult. His heart was pounding and his mind raced wildly.

Eventually, it was Bucky that spoke. “There was a girl,” he said, halfway to a question. “Peggy.”

That he hadn’t expected. Which was stupid. He’d talked a lot about Peggy back then , thought about her constantly. Of course Bucky would remember something like that. Steve rubbed condensed water off the side of his beer bottle with his thumb, staring at the colorful lights reflecting on the glass. “Yeah, there was.”

Bucky fell silent again, leaning on the railing with his hip and sipping his drink tentatively. Steve swallowed roughly, cursing himself. Peggy was a dream long-faded. What he’d had with her had barely been more than a fantasy. He’d loved her, he knew that for certain, but he’d never imagined settling down and having a life with her. Marriage hadn’t ever crossed his mind before the serum, and there hadn’t been any  girls to m a rry a nyway. He’d not met another person he could have foreseen himself settling down and having a life with. His own life had seemed so fragile, like it could be ripped from him at any second. All he’d needed was Bucky, anyway.

Then suddenly, he’d had the serum, and Peggy, and his life had become something entirely new. But there had been no time to think about the future. He’d been swept up in an excitement that hardly felt real, in a body that always felt too powerful to fathom. He could do everything he’d missed out on and more, more than his peers, more than anyone who had ever looked down on him. He could have had his pick of women. Had he not crashed the Valkyrie, or if Howard had found him, he could have had Peggy.

Suddenly, Steve knew exactly what he wanted.

\--

They emptied their beers, exchanging a little small-talk. It wasn’t much, and Bucky was reserved and jumpy, but it was progress.  _ Monumental _ progress. They talked about the thirties, mostly, which seemed to be when Bucky’s memories were clearest. Steve filled in the blanks around fleeting, blurry snapshots of the life they used to have, and his friend listened while he painted detailed images of that life. Bucky seemed agitated when the details were about him, so Steve limited his descriptions of his friend to purely actions – what he’d done, when he’d done it. But he described Bucky’s family, his own family, and himself in great detail. Talking about his sickly childhood wasn’t something he preferred to discuss at length, but for Bucky he did. He recounted some of his worst struggles, times when his best friend had been there for him despite how futile his efforts had seemed. It was difficult not to prattle on  and on about how good Bucky had been, how steadfast and patient and selfless. The pressure to perform wearing a skin that was no longer his appeared to be the greatest cause of agitation for the assassin.

Steve described their adventures, too, rare trips to Coney Island or a baseball game when they could put the money together to go.

Bucky wouldn’t speak up if he was done, Steve surmised as much, so he kept a close eye on his friend. Despite his extensive and brutal training and brainwashing, Bucky was projecting his emotions quite plainly on his pale face. The second he seemed overwhelmed, Steve noticed, and quickly wrapped things up. He held out his hand for the empty beer bottle and Bucky pressed it shakily into his hand.

Steve yawned deliberately. “Ah, I’m tired. I should go get some sleep. Maybe you should too.”

Bucky stared at him. “Okay.” He sounded a little relieved.

Steve walked slowly back inside and set the empty bottles on the counter, watching his friend out the corner of his eye as the man followed him inside and walked hesitantly toward the elevator, as if afraid he’d be caught doing something he shouldn’t. Steve smiled and nodded. Slowly, Bucky took his leave, gaining pace the second he realized he was free to go. The sight was heartbreaking, but Steve forced himself to simply be glad that his friend had come out and spent some time with him.  _ He’ll remember. He’ll come back. We’ll get him back. HYDRA isn’t defeated if we can’t get him back. _

He hadn’t unwrapped his hands. Steve stared at them for a few moments before casually making his way back to the gym. He unwrapped his fists and tucked the wraps away, staring at the split punching bag abandoned on the floor.  _ Thor... _ Right, he’d been down here because of his nightmares, trying to channel his fear from his brain into his fists, and beat it out of himself.

_ I know what I want. _ Steve left the gym with purpose, striding back to his room. Confidence surged through him, and he knew what he had to do, what he  _ wanted _ to do. It felt so good to want, so affirming to have a desire like this guiding him. Most of all, it felt good to want something for himself.

\--

Morning came, and suddenly he wasn’t so sure. Steve stood by the door, shield in-hand, suddenly nervous.  _ I can’t do this...  _ _ I _ _ s this right? _

No, he wanted it.  _ Badly. _ Anyway, Tony would know what to do. Steve had to tell  _ someone, _ at least. The older man would have advice and guidance for him.

Out the door he went, heart racing and his face flushed before he even reached the workshop. Tony was there, as usual, tinkering away with Iron Man’s gauntlet. He looked up as the door slid open and Steve entered, frowning at his Captain and the shield in his hand. “What’s up Cap? Someone draw a dick on your shield? You’re red as ketchup.”

“What? N-no,” Steve frowned. “No. I just... wanted to ask you something.”

“Shoot,” Tony leaned back in his chair, all ears.

“Well...” Steve fidgeted with the comforting  vibranium in his hands. It was solid and familiar, a steadfast companion that had protected him unerringly through countless perils. “I was wondering... if you’d be able to maybe shave some metal off my shield.”

“Too heavy for you, old man?” Tony quirked an eyebrow. Steve glared at him. The inventor smirked. “Sure I could. What you need it for?”

“I...” Steve felt all the blood rush to his face, burning so hot he was certain his shirt would burst into flame. “I was wondering if.... if you could make...” he swallowed. “Make a ring. T-two rings.”

“Course I could,” Tony scoffed, “how hard could that—oh.  _ Oh. _ Oh, Steve.” The genius pieced things together and was on his feet, grinning wildly.

Steve looked at his shoes, squeezing his shield tightly and holding it in front of his face. Apprehension clutched his chest, threatening to strangle him. “Tony...”

“What’s the matter?” the inventor actually softened, dropping his teasing tone and boisterous glee. A gentle hand landed on his shoulder. “Hey, perk up. Come on, don’t make me do all the celebrating for you. Cus I will.”

“I’m scared.” It was out before he had the chance to gate-check his tongue. 

Tony took the shield from him, sure fingers wrapping around its edge and plucking the object from his grip, setting it aside. “Yeah, you should be.”

Steve blinked and frowned. The inventor nudged him toward the chair and he sat obediently.

“That’s how you know your feelings are real,” Tony shrugged. “It  ain’t love if it doesn’t scare the shit out of you.”

“When’d you become the expert on love?” Steve lifted an  eyebrow, grateful he was sitting. His legs felt like jelly.

Tony picked up his shield and ran a hand along the edge, weighing the object with care and diligence. He ignored the question and returned one of his own, meeting Steve’s eyes with his own observant ones. “The question is, Rogers, what are you scared  _ of? _ "

Wasn’t that the question... Steve swallowed. He wasn’t sure. “Maybe.... maybe that he’ll say no.”

“You think he would?” Tony slid the shield onto his work bench, pushing other projects out of the way. “You really think, that after all this time, after everything the two of you have been through, that he would suddenly turn you down?”

It didn’t seem like a logical fear when Tony put it that way. Steve shook his head, ashamed. No, he didn’t truly think Thor would turn him down. “What if... what if he’s not ready. Or I’m not ready. ”

“Then you wait. Just because you get engaged doesn’t mean you get have to get married that  same day. You could wait. Just don’t want too long.”

Steve flushed deeper, if that was even possible. “Sounds weird when you say it out loud.”

“How so? What’s weird about a super-soldier war vet and a  Norse thunder god getting married?” Tony quipped, picking up some tools and measuring the shield. “ Nothin ’, that’s what. Just because it’s unconventional doesn’t mean it’s weird. I think you threw convention out the window the day you became a glint in your father’s eye.”

Maybe. Steve smiled despite the crude joke, but he couldn’t entirely dispel his worry. “I just... I don’t know if this is right.”

“Right for who? You, Thor, the world?  Asgard ?” Tony didn’t miss a beat. For all the inventor proclaimed he ‘didn’t play well with others’, he was picking Steve apart like a jigsaw and  pointing out the pieces that clearly had no place in the picture. “I’ll tell you right now that you deserve to be happy. Do you want this?”

Steve nodded immediately. He knew that, at least. “More than I’ve ever wanted anything.”

“Then it’s right.” There was the end of that. Tony’s grin returned, and the inventor shook his head, beaming proudly at Steve with just a hint of malevolence that was frankly worrying. “You guys are cute as hell. God, I can’t wait.”

“Don’t tell anyone,” Steve floundered. “Please... I don’t know how I’m  gonna do it yet.”

“Well, you got time,” Tony smiled. “And I can keep a secret. If you need some good proposal  spots I can give you a map. Been planning to ask Pepper for ages.”

“Tony!” Steve beamed proudly, his turn to grin.

“Yup,” the inventor smiled back, just as proud. “Still  workin ’ out the details. But shut it. Yours first.  So where you  gonna do it,  Asgard ? I’m invited, right? Please tell me you won’t do it in a boring old church. I expect you to get decked out in formal Asgardian attire. I’ll add a cape to your uniform myself if you don’t.”

“We’ll see,” Steve smiled, warmed by the engineer’s enthusiasm on his behalf.  _ This is alright. This is good, and I’m allowed to have it. I’m allowed to be happy.  _ What he’d never been able to have with Peggy, he could find with Thor. The prince would come back for him, and they could do what they wanted, go where they wanted. Steve didn’t know anything else other than that he wanted Thor.  Everything else would follow.


	4. Chapter 4

This was going to be a long quest. The second he stepped foot in Asgard, Thor wished he’d brought Steve with him. He schooled his heart, reminding it adamantly that if he’d brought Steve, and something were to go wrong, he could lose the man he loved. His heart was very much in agreement, then, that a little bit of longing now was a much better option to the possibility  of unending suffering down the road if Steve were to be killed.  _ I have only respect for you, Steve, but this fight is beyond what I can justify bringing a mortal into, regardless of your boundless courage. Sometimes a fight is simply too big. _

He was weary as he walked into the castle. His dreams had mercilessly sucked the vigor from him, and no matter how valiantly Steve had fought to keep him grounded night after night, his efforts had been failing. The only way to end this was to stop  Ragnarok . Then he could go home and rest, and be at peace.

Thor walked into the  palace, Mjolnir tight in his hand. It was going to be his connection to Steve, his only link to the man so far away. It would be a painfully inadequate substitute for physical contact, but it was all he had. Thor clung to the connection, drawing warmth and strength from it. He could feel Steve’s steady, healthy thrum across the bridge. At times the hammer was like a vitals machine, relaying to him in detail how his Captain fared. Even when neither of them were consciously touching their bond, he could feel it singing to him in the background constantly. It was reassuring.

Over time, that bond had only grown stronger. Since the first time Steve had hefted the hammer to now, Thor sensed so much more. It didn’t matter if the Captain was calling to Mjolnir or not, Thor felt him.  _ And I will take a little piece of you wherever I go.  _ He clung to that piece harder. It was going to get him through the night, and many more lonely nights to come.

Steve didn’t know it, but he’d been soothing Thor to sleep long before the prince’s nightmares had come out to play in full force. Having a warm, strong body against his had made him feel safe. A younger Thor would have balked at the idea of ever needing such reassurances, let alone profiting from them, but as he was now, he knew how valuable Steve’s mere presence was for his heart, especially during recent times where his relationship with his  own  people had become strained and his morals tested. Steve was a compass by which to align himself, a lighthouse welcoming him home to soft sand that rooted around his feet and held him steady. Steve was the firm pillar supporting him, and the soft voice in his ear reminding him where he belonged, and that he  _ did _ belong.

Asgard felt empty, its golden spires valueless. Thor walked into the throne room, immediately feeling out of place despite his fitting wardrobe. His father awaited him, that layer of disappointment mixing into his welcoming smile as it had since New Mexico.

“My son, welcome home,” he offered.

Thor smiled back cordially. “You know why I have returned. You know of the prophecy foreseen to destroy this kingdom and the Allfather. I cannot stay long.”

“It is indeed a grave prophecy,” Odin replied calmly. “And I see you have left your mortal companion at home this time. A wise choice. My words have finally sunk in.”

Thor’s eyes narrowed, and he fought to contain his rage. He clenched Mjolnir, and schooled his tone. “You do not understand the courage Steve possesses. He is worthy. Surely that means something to you.”

“His life is a blip against yours,” Odin replied, emotionless and firm.

“So is your raven,” Thor replied evenly. “Yet you love it and care for it, regardless of how short its life is compared to yours.”

“They are lesser beings. They deserve nothing more than to be coddled and cared for. But I would never stand beside my raven in battle and expect it to be my equal.” Odin’s voice remained even and detached, which was infuriating. Thor wished his father would yell at him, because then he could yell back, scream how wrong and closed-minded the man he used to respect had become.

“Steven is every bit my equal. His lifespan may be shorter, but that does not lower his value. He has fought with as much bravery as your finest warriors. He has faced and overcome the greatest of obstacles. If you knew him as I do-”

“You have fallen for him,” Odin’s eye narrowed tightly, and he rose from the throne, gathering his staff and walking menacingly forward. “I warned you with Jane, and I shall warn you again: it is a foolish quest to give your mortal playthings such attention. They will die before your hair turns grey, a thousand times over.”

“I am here to protect our kingdom from  Ragnarok , nothing more ” Thor growled, unable to completely remove himself from his emotions and remain calm. Not when Steve and his human companions were being disregarded as such. “Do not school me of love, father, nor of suffering. I would never cast aside my feelings simply to save myself from a later pain. Mother would have lived as long as you, yet she was taken from you early. That is no different than Steve dying of old age before I do.”

He’d struck a  cord . Odin’s thick, stony mask cracked. “Go on your quest,  _ boy, _ " the  Allfather snapped. “And come back when it is finished.”

“You are not the man you were.” Thor held his ground. “And you are not the man I would seek advice from. I respect you as my father, but you have simply gone too far. Do not expect my return.”

Had  _ Thor _ gone too far? Possibly. But he didn’t care. He turned and walked out defiantly. It was his duty, and nothing more, to stop  Ragnarok . Even if he no longer felt at home here, nor agreed with his father on anything, he wouldn’t wish for  his fall , nor the fall of  Asgard .  _ Perhaps someday you will see sense, father.  _ And it was by Steve’s foundation under his feet and at his back that he knew it was not  himself who need e d to see sense . Thor knew  _ exactly _ where he belonged.

\--

There was a small feast prepared that evening, something Odin frequently arranged when Thor returned to the kingdom. It felt like an underhanded way to win his favor, but he tried not to think too much about it as he ate.

His friends joined him as usual, as well as plenty of familiar faces from the court. 

“We hardly see you these days!”  Volstagg clasped him roughly around the shoulders and gave him an exuberant hug. Thor had to admit he had missed the Warriors Three and Sif.

“You must be fully enthralled with your companion,”  Fandral winked slyly. “Had I a golden beauty with such milky skin, I too would find it difficult to leave my quarters, let alone venture to another realm.”

Thor actually blushed and took a deliberate swig of drink to recover himself behind the mug. “Do not speak so crudely of Steven,” he chuckled, but it was hard not to envision Steve’s flawless skin and honey-colored hair now that  Fandral had mentioned it. The thought was lodged in his mind now, and there was no ridding of it, along with the faint flush in his cheeks. Luckily, his beard covered most of it.

“It’s a shame he could not join us,” Hogan noted. “He was a fine companion. How does he fare? We worried for him, and for you, when you left us suddenly. Heimdall would not tell us what had taken place.”

“Steve is well,” Thor confirmed.  _ Ah, yes, I did rush out rather quickly without explanation. I have not returned since the fall of SHIELD. _ “We ran into some trouble, but we handled it, as always. Great evil has resurfaced on Earth. We were greatly occupied with removing it.”  _ HYDRA still operates across the globe. My friends will be facing those threats without me. I should be there.  _ And, of course,  Fandral was right: leaving Steve behind had been no easy feat. Why would he leave unless he absolutely had to, if he had Steve in his bed? Since HYDRA’s attack on the tower, he had felt even less inclined to visit  Asgard , a great deal more protective of his partner.

“I am glad to hear your friends are well,” Hogan gave a nod.

Sif leaned her hip against the table, arms folded loosely over her chest and an easy smile on her face. Ever since  Malekith’s defeat, she seemed to have come to terms with Steve’s role in his life. She and Steve hadn’t crossed paths since, but she no longer spoke ill of him, nor cast scorn on his relationship with her prince. “And you did not think to bring any of them with you on this quest of yours?” she quirked an eyebrow. “Nor any of us?”

Thor set down his drink. “I must face this threat alone,” he replied solemnly. “My mor t al friends would be better left on Earth.  T hough I respect their strength as much as I do yours, I cannot risk bringing any of you into this kind of danger. The prophecy threatens the end of  Asgard . I cannot bring anything tied to it with me. The risk is too great. I will not lose anything else.”

He hadn’t meant for his tone to be so grave, but it was. The lighthearted mood was shattered.  Volstagg placed a large hand on his shoulder and squeezed it warmly. “You are not the boy who charged blindly into Jotunheim many years ago,” he spoke softly. “I have never been prouder to follow someone into battle, but we will respect your wishes and remain here. As long as it stands that you don’t face anything alone where you don’t have to.”

“Thank you,” Thor gave his friend a strong smile. “I will not, I promise.”

They ate, and talked. Thor allowed himself to forget about  Ragnarok as much as he could and tried to enjoy himself. His friends deserved that much, and he wanted it for himself too, to have fun.

Eventually though, he had to retire to bed. He was still tired, weeks of restless sleep weighing him down. He hadn’t had a good, long night of deep, uninterrupted slumber for a long time. His friends bid him goodnight with worried smiles, offering their comfort but leaving him be when he requested it gently of them. There was nothing they could do to  improve his rest. Only stopping Ragnarok would ease the dreams away.

His bed was too big, bigger than it had ever felt, and the sheets insufficient to warm him. It had been months since he’d slept alone. Thor pressed a table close to the bed and set Mjolnir on it, wrapping himself in blankets and imagining Steve’s solid body tucked perfectly into his torso, their legs impossibly tangled. With a sweep of his mind he could feel Steve all the way on Earth, feel the strength of his spirit. Regardless of what befell them, or what state Steve’s emotions were in, his spirit was always brimming with vitality. There was so much there that Thor could practically feel it in his hands, the very essence of what made Steve unequivocally  _ Steve  _ leaving a soft caress on his skin. Steve’s power lay beyond his body, beyond the serum.

He missed it, wanted it.

That night, Thor dreamed of his mother. He dreamed of her caring touch and wise words. “Your future is yours to choose, my darling,” she was telling him kindly, with  strength he had always admired. It, too, transcended her physical body. He lay with his head in her lap as he had many times in his youth, a hand stroking his hair. “Do what makes you happy. Life is not all about duty.”

His mother’s touch was ripped from him, her body torn away soundlessly. She was dead in a second, before he had a chance to say goodbye, before she could make a sound. Thor trembled in the cold grass, staring down at himself. For a moment he swore he was a child again, a fraction of his current size and strength, fearful and yet to learn how to be a true warrior. His father stood a few paces away, dressed in his formal battle attire, old and disapproving as he stared down and cast a frigid shadow across his son.

“Rise. You are meant for more than this.” Odin’s voice was commanding and loveless, ordering his child as if he were a general ordering a soldier. Thor pushed his weak legs under him, knowing deep inside himself that he should stand much taller, but the dream still bestowing him only with this younger vessel. Odin marched closer, responsibilities and shackles in his hand.

Thor reared back his head and screamed for his mother, for his brother. The second a warm, red light flickered behind him he felt a swell of hope and turned, hoping to see his mother’s radiant smile and bright golden dress, or Loki’s gold-clad armor. He was met with neither, the sight of hellfire greeting him instead. From it rose a monster, its eyes black and hungry, roaring flame dancing across its horns as it ripped open the earth and pulled itself out onto luscious Asgardian soil. Grass charred instantly beneath its huge talons, dirt and rock gouged like butter. It hissed for him.

“Do what you must. Fight it.” Odin’s icy command echoed from behind, frosting his back. “It is your duty.”

Thor trembled in the grass. He was back in his body as it should be, but it didn’t matter. A child or a man, it didn’t matter. He was too small, too weak to stop the end.

“We’ll face this, together.” Steve was standing over him suddenly, blocking out his father’s cold stares and the raging heat of  Ragnarok burning away everything else.

“No-!” Thor lifted his arms to fight, to push Steve away before the fire burned him too, but the Captain batted him aside as if his strength were nothing. The fire came closer, but Steve didn’t move away, settling to one knee and wrapping his arms tightly around Thor’s body, shielding him. Fire burned away his kingdom, the structures and land beneath, destroying it to ash. But not Steve.

“Together,” Steve murmured, untouched by the destruction. “You and me. Come home.”  Odin’s voice was no longer audible.

“I will,” Thor promised quietly. The dream faded, but the sensation of Steve’s arms wrapped tightly around him didn’t. When he woke up, he almost expected to the see his Captain lying there beside him, groggy with sleep and his blonde hair in tufts.

His bed was still empty. But he knew what he had to do.

Before his hunt for Surtur, he had a stop to make. When this was over, he intended to go home, and stay there. With Steve, the only place he ever wanted to be. His detour would be well-worth it. Thor gathered his things and went to the bi-frost.

“You have grown much these past few years,” Heimdall greeted him. “You would make a wise king.”

Thor smiled. “That is no longer my path.”

Heimdall smiled, oddly fond. “Be careful, my friend. I will watch over your loved-ones. Return safely. Your Captain misses you.”

“Thank you,” Thor turned to the portal, clutching Mjolnir tightly. He stepped into it, and the light consumed him.

\--

With his personal mission complete, the end felt a little nearer. That small pouch tucked safely away in his armor was a small consolation, a promise to himself that he would make it out of this alive and well.

Odin had banished Surtur long ago, defeated him and cast him away somewhere. Thor returned to  Asgard long enough to get at least that much  information  before heading off into the nine realms again.

Ragnarok did not leave his dreams, and night after night the fire raged and burned everything away. Everything but Steve. They were miles away, but Steve held him tightly through the night, as tangible as anything real. Thor wondered if Steve could sense his nightmares through Mjolnir and was comforting him despite their distance. Or maybe Steve lived so firmly in his heart that he had no trouble imagining his partner as he would behave and speak in the flesh. Regardless, his Captain was there to comfort him and protect him from what terrors the night brought. He wished only that when he awoke, he were back in their bed, Steve’s flesh hands in his hair.

The days dragged into weeks, and felt like eternity. In the end, he did find Surtur. His plan was successful, and the battle short. He returned to  Asgard with a bounce in his step, unable to contain his excitement that very soon he could go home. Steve would be waiting. They could curl up in bed,  and  sleep for as long as they wanted. Ragnarok wasn’t coming. He’d stopped it, as promised. He could rest.

Ragnarok had only just begun.


	5. Chapter 5

It didn’t take long to grow a beard, not at all. In  fact he hardly noticed he’d grown it until Sam pointed it out one evening over a game of cards.

“I mean, it’s a good look, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen you anything but clean-shaven,” Sam remarked. “Trying a new look? Going undercover?”

Steve shrugged dismissively and played his hand. “Couldn’t be bothered to shave. Might get rid of it tomorrow.”

“Captain America grew a beard out of laziness?” Tony snorted. “Don’t tell the children.”

“What, am I not allowed to grow a beard? Is that not normal?” Steve implored his friends with a slight amount of incredulity.  _ It’s just hair. Get over it. It’s not that monumental. _ Truth be told, he knew how different it made him look, how much older and wiser the face staring back at him became. It was innerving at times, but he still couldn’t be bothered to shave it off.

Thor had been gone for weeks, and he was worried.

With distance, his heart had unconsciously latched tighter to their bond across Mjolnir, and when Thor slept, he felt it.  _ At least he’s alive. _ Alive and well enough, it would seem, from what information he could gather across their fierce connection. Sometimes they took pause in the evening to share a brief conversation, but mostly it was just emotion traveling through. The onslaught was constant. The difficult part was, though healthy enough in body, Thor was clearly tormented in mind, and Steve wasn’t there.

He was here, on Earth, playing cards with his friends.

There hadn’t been a fight for ages, and he was restless, yearning for somewhere to go to burn off all this pent-up frustration. The gym helped, but it wasn’t the same. It only made him feel more useless, pounding a punching bag until it split. It wouldn’t help anyone. And besides his inability to protect the man he loved, HYDRA was out there. Patience hung in a tenuous grip as they all waited for the next attack, for Fury’s next discrete call to let them know of some stirrings halfway across the globe.

“I win,” Natasha threw down her cards, breaking him from his trance. She was sat beside him, and had sneakily worked her way closer to him all evening until she was pressed comfortingly into his side. “Shall we play again, fellas?”

“You guys carry on without me,” Steve put down his cards and stood up. “I should... get to bed.”

“It’s nine o’clock,” Tony frowned. “Don’t you only need, like, two hours of sleep to function?”

“Come on Steve, one more game,” Clint whined.

He opened his mouth to reply, but Natasha had already grabbed his wrist and was yanking him back onto the sofa. He complied. They were right. He was better off out here playing games and keeping occupied than sulking in his room alone. There was nothing to hide: they all knew how worried he was. Frankly, all of them were a little concerned for their absent thunder god. 

One more game became two more, then three more, and before he knew it, it was midnight. Steve helped clean up, then retired quietly to his room.

Bucky was waiting for him by the door. His friend had become  more bold and forward, seeking him out more frequently and asking more question. The damaged soldier was still quiet and jumpy, but the progress was immense. Bruce had said as much when Steve had come to talk to him about it and ask for advice.

“He should still see someone,” the doctor had explained kindly. “Maybe in a little while, when he’s more comfortable around people.”

That seemed like a long way off, but not entirely unobtainable like it had weeks and weeks ago. Clint had walked into the common area for a midnight snack while Steve and Bucky had been engaged in another of their reminiscent discussions, and Bucky had watched him intently, posture locked and poised to pounce or run away as the archer gathered his food and scampered away. But Bucky hadn’t run, had even asked Steve more about the other people living here.

Bucky was here now, at his door, waiting for him. This had to be the boldest move by the assassin during his stay here, though he still looked reserved and guarded as he kept his back facing the wall and his eyes alert. He looked up as Steve approached and a smile  _ almost _ fought free on his lips. His posture straightened a little.

“Hey,” Steve smiled at his friend and opened his door, walking in and leaving it open invitingly. “Had dinner?” No response. “I’ll make you something. Come on.”

Maybe he shouldn’t speak in such absolutes, given that Bucky still seemed to have a hard time deciding what he wanted and speaking up about it, but he couldn’t be sure his friend  _ would _ speak up if he hadn’t had any dinner.

At least he seemed to have put on some weight these past few weeks. Steve reassured himself with that as he gathered food from his fridge and started to lay it out. Bucky took a seat of his own volition at the table, silently pulling out a chair and easing into it. His arm still hung uselessly, the offer to have it fixed consistently met with a blank face.

Steve slid a sandwich over and sat down across from his friend as usual, leaning back casually in his chair and trying not to stare too hard into  Bucky’s face.  _ He still looks so young.  _ That was striking. Despite thick layers of torment caked over top, Bucky still that  handsome young man who had left Brooklyn to go to war. That was both sad and reassuring at once.

Bucky stared at the sandwich for a minute before picking it up blankly. He glanced up at Steve’s inviting face before taking a tentative bite. The first led to a second, and in no time at all he was eating with restrained vigor. Halfway in he paused to ask a question, eyebrows furrowed. “The man who was with you... where did he go?”

“Which one?” Steve frowned. “When?”

“Before... the blonde. I fought him.”

“Thor?” Steve replied  immediately. “He... he had some errands to run. He left the country.”  _ And the planet. _

“Who is he?” It was about time Bucky asked. Even if he’d not been himself at the time, Bucky still seemed to vaguely recall Thor easily stopping his metal arm and knocking him down like he was a fly. Thor had also tagged along to visit him in his cell a few times, and had been in the vacinity the odd time Bucky had ventured out of his room. The assassin’s tone held flavors of protectiveness that sent Steve seventy years into the past.  _ Who was that, Stevie? You keep away from those people. They’re  _ _ nothin _ _ ’ but trouble. I don’t care about your morals. You stay away, here me? If you get in a fight with them... _

How on Earth did he explain who Thor was? “He’s... not from around here.” It was the best he could do. That phrase had been confusing when Fury had spoken it to him not too many years ago, but he’d gone along with it, having no reason to question its validity. And it had been true, to the spy’s credit. “He’s a friend.” Yes, so was everyone else in this tower.  _ Bucky. I’m dating a  _ _ norse _ _ god. Welcome back. Oh, and we might get married when he comes back from his quest to stop the apocalypse. _

Bucky narrowed his eyes, actually leaned forward a little and  _ scrutinized _ him tightly. “Yeah, right. That why you grew that awful beard?”

There were times like these when Bucky was just like the man he’d been, the Winter Soldier all but a few extra lines of suffering in his smooth face. Times when old phrases and a slight Brooklyn accent came through. Steve lifted his hands in surrender and chuckled brightly, acutely aware of the blush warming his cheeks. “You got me. And hey, is it really that bad?”

Bucky snorted and glowered at his sandwich, picking it up to resume where he left off. “You look like a depressed fisherman.”

Perhaps he did. Steve rubbed his bristled cheek. 

As they often did, Bucky’s glimmers of his former self dulled to their usual baseline levels, and conversation went on. It wasn’t disheartening. Bucky was coming back, gleaming through the cracks brighter and brighter, asking more about the present and the past both. Steve relished every second. Things would never be the same, but that was okay. Even if Steve hadn’t been frozen, and Bucky hadn’t been captured, and they were both somehow still alive having lived through seventy years, things wouldn’t be how they were. That was fine.

Bucky asked more about the others, especially Thor. No matter the extensive brainwashing HYDRA had performed, they hadn’t managed to remove the man’s ability to read Steve like a pamphlet printed in size twenty font. Not that Steve was usually any good at hiding his thoughts and emotions, but Bucky had always had a sixth sense when it came to him. Steve hadn’t explicitly said it, but he had a feeling Bucky knew  _ exactly  _ what Thor was to him.

That night, Bucky fell asleep at the table, nodding off in a rare show of trust and vulnerability. Steve almost didn’t dare move him, but he couldn’t leave his friend slumped in his chair like that. He moved in, employing all the stealth he was capable of to move away the empty plate and slide back the chair. Bucky barely stirred.

They were both big, heavy guys, Bucky even more so now that he had some version of the serum in his blood. He’d lost weight since the fight over the Potomac, but he was still large and muscly. Steve had trouble juggling his friend, but managed to do so without waking him. They were so close, tantalizingly so, almost locked in a hug if not for Bucky’s arms dangling over his shoulders limply. Ah well, close enough. Steve smiled and walked evenly out of the kitchen area and into the living room, lowering to his knee and sliding Bucky onto the lounge chaise. His turned his friend onto his side and went to get some pillows and a blanket. He delicately maneuvered the assassin’s metal arm, resting it comfortably away from its owner’s body so the plates wouldn’t pinch. The artificial limb was heavy in his hand, and he cast his gaze to his friend’s sleeping face. The Bucky he knew was right there, expression lax and unguarded, breathing evenly through slightly-parted lips. This was the man who had gotten him through his early years, protected him from sickness and bullies and despair, regardless of how adamantly he had protested he didn’t need any protecting at all. 

Steve fought the urge to linger his hands, or to hover protectively over his sleeping friend, but he resisted. He tucked in the blanket and forced himself not to fuss over the pillows, stepping back reluctantly and padding to his room. It was best to leave the soldier sleep in peace.

Steve’s own sleep was hardly as peaceful. His own dreams began, spurred by fear and worry. The second his eyes closed, he was back on  Sakaar , trapped behind bars and forced to watch Thor fight the  Adaptoid alone, weaponless.

Just as he had when the danger had seemed insurmountable, he stretched out his hand for Mjolnir. By memory, he knew the hammer should have flown into his grip at that very moment, allowing him to break free and charge into the arena just in time to stop the android from crushing his friend-now-partner. But it didn’t. Steve sobbed, reaching his fingers between the bars, waiting for Mjolnir to come to him. His whole body itched with frustration as he fought his prison, fought the guards pulling him back, fought for any shred of hope that maybe Mjolnir was just late.

It was  _ too _ late. The  adaptoid was moving in for the kill, crowds cheering. Steve watched its silvery humanoid shape ripple and change, melting into another form made of flesh and blood – Malekith. The crowds were no longer various breeds of alien, but dark elves, gurgling and roaring for the blood of the  Odinson . The Grand Master’s holographic form twisted horribly, becoming a cloud of dark red matter that hissed and shot for  Malekith’s hand. With the  Aether and nothing in his way, the dark elf plunged toward Thor’s prone body, ready to make the kill.

The second the arena started to melt away, Steve knew he wasn’t in his dream anymore. The world still felt hazy and imagined, but his thoughts were his own, and it was easier to move. His mind was clear.

This was not real, as much as it felt it.

The dream no longer had power over him. Steve kicked back the guards and ripped apart the bars, bursting free and running with long, powerful strides across dust that was growing into lush grass. He knew where he was: Asgard. Out of the stands pushed tall golden spires, bright lights of the arena melting into stars and distant galaxies. The rainbow bridge stretched into the inviting void of space, and the city welcomed him from the other side. Soon, the arena was completely gone, and he was fully absorbed into Thor’s dream.

Malekith was gone too, and Thor was standing, swaying, and afraid. More afraid than Steve had ever seen him look. Odin was there, his form darkened by shadow despite the warm light bouncing all around him. He was staring at his son with an expression that was borderline contemptuous. It made Steve’s heart ache. He knew well enough that the  Allfather’s expectations and hopes for his son were not what Thor wanted to achieve, and he had witnessed their disjoined interactions himself. Still, there had been love somewhere under the father’s demeanor. There was none here. The Odin that lived in this dream had no care for his son, and Thor cowered under the weight of that expecting stare.

Steve ran.  Asgard’s foundation was being ripped apart, a monster unlike any he had ever seen crawling out of the licking flames toward Thor. There was no escape. Steve reasoned with the dream, knew it  _ was _ a dream, and willed the distance between himself and his partner to be shorter. Suddenly, he was exactly where he needed to be, right at Thor’s side.

He’d been in this dream before. It was familiar. Odin’s cold glare, and the demon’s fiery destruction, Thor stuck in the middle of it. Just as he had before, Steve planted himself against all of it, impervious to these imagined threats; they were just a dream, but  _ he _ was  _ real. _ Thor’s unconscious thoughts were no match for Steve’s conscious, grounded will.

Just as he had before, he wrapped his body tightly around Thor, which wasn’t easy, but he forced it to be. He willed himself to absorb Thor against his chest, despite the other man being slightly larger than him. It didn’t matter. Physics didn’t matter in a dream. Logic and reason didn’t matter.

“We do this together,” Steve promised, using his body as a shelter. The fire couldn’t hurt him. Odin’s loveless glare couldn’t hurt him.

Thor squirmed, crying out for him to run, to get to safety, just as he always did. And just as always, Steve ignored him, squeezing tighter. The fire raged and burned away everything, burned away  Asgard and all its ethereal, timeless beauty. But not Steve. It couldn’t touch Steve. Steve was separate from this dream, inside of it but not a part of it. The fire could destroy everything around them, but it could do no more and eventually faded away.

It was just the two of them now, huddled in the middle of space, floating among colorful galaxies and twinkling stars. There was peace.

Steve pulled Thor’s head against his chest and held it there, easily resisting the demigod’s strength. He shouldn’t be able to, but this was a dream, and now it was  _ his  _ dream. He owned it, could make it into what he wanted. And Thor’s mind was too disoriented to fight back with more conjured terrors.

“Gotcha,” Steve murmured, “go to sleep.”

Thor was silent in his arms, eyelids heavy with exhaustion and suffering, breathing short breaths.

“Breathe, we’ve got this. Together.” Steve coaxed warmly. Thor’s body turned in his grip, and the prince lifted his arms, wrapping them tightly around Steve and holding there. His respirations slowed, and they hung there intertwined amidst a quiet universe.

\--

As much as it pained him that despite Thor’s search to stop  Ragnarok , his dreams were still plaguing him, Steve found reassurance that he could  _ do _ something. When they were both asleep, which was often enough, their dreams melded together. Steve wasn’t sure if Thor called for him and pulled him into his unconscious mind, or if the Captain found his way on his own, but the details didn’t matter. By the power of Mjolnir, they were linked tightly enough to share their dreams, and Steve  _ always _ found his way into the chaos of Thor’s nightmares with as much control as if he were awake.

That was good. Sometimes it was a little harder to fight whatever Thor’s sleeping brain conjured up, but he always won, and he always battled his way to the center of it all to wrap himself around the prince’s body. Threats pelted them for what felt like days in the dream world, but all of it was harmless to Steve, as if he existed in another plane of reality. He didn’t even need his shield. All he needed was his willpower, pushing his consciousness through Thor’s and protecting him from every terror the night dealt. Thor drifted out of the dream tightly held in his arms.

After each dream, Steve awoke tired. It was often that when he slept, so did Thor, which meant he inevitably found himself mixed up in his partner’s nightmares. That was fine. The hours in which their minds didn’t meet still brought nightmares of his own. They weren’t as potent as Thor’s, but they were bad enough to make it difficult to feel well-rested.

Bucky had started to come see him more frequently, waiting for him at his door in the evening and spending late hours engaged in conversation. Steve would always ask if he was hungry, and though an answer was never given verbally, he could see hopefulness in his friend ’ s eyes.  So he cooked, made eggs and sandwiches and pancakes. He sat at the table with Bucky, sometimes eating with him, talking about what had gone on in the tower since they’d last talked. Sometimes Bucky left, but more often than not he fell asleep on the couch. Steve left a blanket and pillows there for him at all times.

Thor had been gone for three months. During that time, the team had made several HYDRA busts, working off information delivered to them discretely by Fury. Steve threw himself into his work, and tried not to think too much about their missing teammate while he did. When he came back, Bucky would be waiting for him, quiet and hesitant as he was so often, but clearly restless and anxious for the Captain’s return.

Today, Steve staggered back, and his friend was hovering by the door to his suite, looking a little grey and bedraggled as usual. The assassin’s eyes sharply scanned Steve from top to bottom. “You went on a mission today.”

Steve knew JARVIS was giving Bucky light debriefs on these missions. He nodded, opening the door and stepping inside. He was dusty and dirty, but relatively unhurt. The shallow scrapes on his face would be gone by morning. “Uh huh. Went well.” It had. The Avengers had stormed in, all guns blazing, and kicked ass. “I’m okay.”

Bucky didn’t ask a lot of questions, but Steve had started to guess by his expression the things his friend wanted to say. If he’d hit his mark, the assassin would relax a little, some tension melting from his shoulders. He would sink deeper into the pull of his damage metal limb. The sooner they got that fixed, the sooner Bucky could straighten out. As it was, his friend was constantly tipped to one side.

Steve set his shield on the floor and started on the buckles of his uniform, watching out the corner of his eye as Bucky followed him quietly into the suite and shut the door behind him. The assassin hovered nearby, watching closely. Steve slid his shield harness off his shoulders. “I’m going to have a shower. You’re welcome to... sit. Wait, if you want.” 

There was no reply. Steve didn’t push. He walked to the bathroom, reluctant to leave his friend, but eager to scrub all the dirt and soot off himself. Hot water pelting his back was bliss, but he cut the shower short and dried off, hurrying back into the living area in a fresh t-shirt and jeans. Bucky was still there, sitting on the couch staring blankly at the wall.

Steve smiled and walked over, sitting down at the opposite end and a ruffling his damp hair. He looked to his friend’s arm sunk into the couch cushions. “You know... if you don’t want a new one, my friend can just get that off for you.”

Bucky blinked at him and looked at his arm, as if he’d forgotten it was there. An expression of contempt crossed his features, alongside confusion. He appeared to be contemplating his options, and, Steve hoped, which one he preferred.

“Does it hurt?”

Bucky looked up. “Yes.”

The answer was a relief and a concern, in that it was honest and layered with undertones of hopefulness, but heartbreaking. Steve tried to keep sorrow from his face, knowing how badly he’d hate it if someone looked at him so sadly. “It doesn’t have to,” he said. “Tomorrow. We can talk to him. At least let him take a look. You don’t have to let him do any more than that if you don’t want to.”

Maybe bringing Bucky to meet Tony was a bad idea, given that Bucky was caught between too shy and too scared to talk to other people, and Tony was loud and rambling. Steve hoped that perhaps his damaged friend would find comfort in the engineer’s constant prattle. Tony could get swept up in his own world and carry a conversation all by himself. Overwhelming as it could be, Steve found comfort sometimes in just letting the inventor go off, without having to worry about contributing anything to the discussion. He would warn Bucky beforehand, if he took up the offer of course.

Bucky didn’t answer. He just stared at his metal fingers, conflicted and lost. Fear crept into his gaze, and finally he shook his head. It was too soon. Steve nodded sympathetically, and left the topic alone.

With that, they went to bed. Bucky stayed on the couch, and Steve went to his room. Thor was dreaming again. In no time at all, he found himself racing back into a familiar landscape, placing himself between his partner and whatever plagued his restless mind. He didn’t care. This was right, and it was a small thing. He wished only that he could actually be at Thor’s side, helping him track down the premonition fueling these horrible lucid nightmares and end it all.

He couldn’t.

Steve awoke, having only managed a couple hours of restful sleep despite having been asleep for at least five or six. He got up and showered, trying to shock himself awake with cold water. He dried and dressed in fresh clothes, leaving his suite to make breakfast in the common area.

Bucky was still asleep on the couch when he passed by, wrapped up in the blankets left there for him, oddly relaxed. It was worth a few moments to pause and observe his friend. Steve smiled, back in the thirties. That was his Bucky sleeping there, young and peaceful.

He couldn’t stay. Steve continued up to the communal dining area, as much as he wanted to stay here and watch his friend sleep. To his surprise, he wasn’t the first one up. Sam was there by the counter, a little scraped up from the fight as everyone else was, but clean and well-rested. He was chopping bananas onto a plate, but looked up as the Captain entered.

“Mornin’ Cap. You’re slackin’. Missed your morning run.” Sam grinned at him and slid the bananas into a blender. His expression upturned as he took in his friend. “Rough night?”

Steve rubbed his eyes and came over, stealing a banana and peeling it. “I guess.”  _ There is no way I can explain to you what’s been keeping me up. Only Tony knows about Mjolnir, and I haven’t even told him all the... details.  _ Because Tony would have locked him, Thor, and Mjolnir in a room and done experiments on them for weeks, if he’d known that the two men could basically communicate telepathically. And how was Steve supposed to explain with a straight face that, because of his deep and intimate bond with Thor, they could share thoughts and emotions, and now dreams?

“Hey man, I know you’re worried, and I can’t say anything that will stop that...” Sam sighed and poured fruit juice into the blender, setting down the carton and facing the Captain. He rested his hips on the counter, eyes clear and discerning. “I know Bucky comes to see you. You shouldn’t have to try and help him and worry about Thor all at once.  Clearly it’s doing you no good. Even Captain American can only worry about so much at once time. And we’ve got all these missions... You’re exhausted.”

Steve shrugged weakly. It was better than any explanation he could give, but he tried. “I can’t stop worrying, you’re right, but I can’t just abandon  Bucky. He comes to my room almost every night. He’s scared, but he’s lonely-”

“Then get him some more friends,” Sam interjected, using his soldier voice. “Get him to come hang out here with us, or bring someone back to your suite. If he’s  gonna live here he needs to get to know us. At least get used to us. It’ll take time, but it won’t get any better by just waiting it out. He’s not going to get better on his own, and he’s not going to make all his own choices.”

“Sam, I can’t ask that of anyone,” Steve knew that was wrong the second he said it. Bucky was  _ his _ friend,  _ his  _ responsibility...  _ Not anymore. _

“You don’t have to ask,” Sam retorted. “Yeah, maybe I’m a little bitter that he nearly killed you –  _ twice –  _ but I do  kinda want to meet the guy. Maybe I’ll like him when he’s more the guy he actually is under all that shit Hydra did to him. And maybe he’ll like me, too. I  gotta say, I make an awesome friend.”

Steve grinned at that, charmed. “Yeah, Sam, you do.” He couldn’t agree more. “I’ll... Thanks. I’ll try. Maybe you could come back to the suite after breakfast.”  _ And hope he hasn’t left. _

Bucky hadn’t. He was sitting on the sofa beside a neat pile of folded blankets, staring straight ahead as if waiting for instruction that part of him knew weren’t coming. Sam held back wisely, and Steve approached slowly. “Hey Buck. Brought a friend, that okay?”

Bucky looked at him, then glanced up to Sam, immediately guarded. Some recognition flashed in his eyes, and a little frustration as his eyebrows creased with effort.

“This is Sam,” Steve explained casually. “You met him a few months back, but it’s okay if you don’t remember.”  _ Maybe it’s best to leave out the part where you guys fought each other on a  _ _ helicarrier _ _ . _

“Hey,” bless Sam, for managing such a nonchalant, easy-going tone and a friendly, unassuming greeting.

The assassin looked tense, leaning forward onto his legs like he might bolt, but he didn’t, finally leaning back a few degrees and letting the tension in his legs dissolve. As if something human had jolted inside of him, he gave a slight nod in greeting.

Sam was so right. Bucky needed to meet some new people, and make friends. He needed to feel included, instead of isolated in this bubble of their two rooms that contained only Steve. 

Sam came to visit almost every day, giving Bucky that same greeting when he came in the door. He didn’t ask any questions, or make any comments toward the assassin. He just maintained a steady, predictable presence, and that was all it took.

A week passed easily. Steve wasn’t getting any more sleep than usual, but he had to admit he felt looser and fractionally less stressed now that Sam was visiting so often. Bucky was joining their conversations now, coming to sit close enough to be a part of things. Though he said very little, he would answer questions from Sam without tensing. A week in, and he hardly gave the other man a second glance when he walked into the suite. A few days later, and he was reciprocating those friendly greetings with a little wave of his own.

Bucky was practically living in Steve and Thor’s suite now, abandoning his own in favor of the company. He didn’t seem to mind sleeping on the couch at all, though Steve was waking up to find the blankets around his friend consistently more rumpled and tangled.  _ Nightmares, _ he deduced, wondering how long they’d been going on before he’d noticed.  _ Probably a long time.  _ There would be no shortage of trauma for his friend’s unconscious mind to twist into violent nightmares, that was for certain. And Steve hadn’t noticed until now, because he’d been enthralled his own and Thor’s every single night.  _ God, Sam was right... _ Even Captain America couldn’t shoulder three people’s worth of nightmares on his own.

Therefore, when Bucky’s nightmares  _ did _ make themselves painfully obvious one night, it was a blessing that he didn’t have to deal with them. It hurt, of course it did, because his childhood best friend was suffering and he couldn’t help. He’d been trapped in his own dream, and by the time his friend’s distraught cries had woken him, it was too late.

Sam had already come. JARVIS must have alerted him, because the walls were thick and there was no way the man could have heard any sort of screaming from his own room. Steve blinked his eyes clear and started to get out of bed, struggling with his long body as Bucky’s terrified screams rattled him and ripped his heart in half. One foot was on the floor before he heard Sam’s soft voice layered over top. He stopped dead in his tracks and listened, listened to Bucky’s hitched breathing and Sam’s easy tone. Even with the bedroom door closed, his enhanced hearing could pick up every word, every sound coming from the living room. He hung there in silence, waiting, heart racing at a breakneck pace. He heard Bucky growl words garbled by a sob forcing its way out behind, and almost leapt out of bed in case the assassin had awakened.  _ Don’t hurt Sam... _

But nothing happened. Nothing violent, anyway. Steve had no idea what had gone on, but he could hear Sam’s soothing voice and calm words, could actually hear Bucky’s heart rate climb down from a panicked state.  So he climbed silently back into bed, knowing that whatever had happened had worked out. When he awoke the next morning and left his room, Sam was there on the floor, sitting by Bucky’s feet with his shoulders leaned against the arm rest of the couch. Both of them were peacefully asleep.

This was no longer just his battle, even though stubbornly he’d always wanted it to be.  _ He _ had always been  _ Bucky’s _ battle, so this was only fair, wasn’t it? Couldn’t he have given this small thing back? But that was foolish, because giving back now meant giving Bucky the chance to make other friends. Sam would be a good start.

That evening, Bucky ventured from the suite, clearly shaken from  last night’s torment and a little embarrassed, but  _ here. _ He walked quietly into the common area while everyone was mingling and filling their plates with the dinner Tony had ordered. Steve spotted his friend right away, and wordlessly made room. Sam was only seconds behind, giving Bucky that familiar welcoming wave. Bucky gave it back.

The others noticed too, but bless them, didn’t say a word. They made sure there was space, made sure to give calm greetings but stay out of the way. Bucky approached the counter and took the plate that Bruce handed him, staring at it. The others tried not to stare at him in turn, giving him some space and going to sit in the lounge area to set up tonight’s game. Steve had no qualms with leaving Bucky and Sam together around the massive pile of food, going to find his place and make sure there were two empty chairs waiting.

Bucky stayed. He didn’t join in their card came, but he  _ stayed. _ He sat between Steve and Sam, working quietly through his food while he watched the game. Nobody bothered him. Tony stole a few glances at his useless metal arm, and Steve could see gears ticking rapidly in his mind, but the engineer said nothing. 

It was a pleasant evening, and Steve managed to forget his worry for simple enjoyment. Bucky was here, and he was one step closer to getting his friend back.

The team played game after game, until it was very late, and time to go to bed. Natasha, Clint, and Bruce set to cleaning up, while Bucky practically leapt out of his chair and hurried away. Sam wandered after him. “I’ll make sure he’s okay,” he promised, and Steve nodded gratefully.

Tony pulled him aside when the two were out of sight, smiling. “Well that was a surprise. I thought it’d be a long time before we saw his face.”

“I owe that to Sam,” Steve chuckled. “He’s got counseling skills.”

“Good, you need the break,” Tony remarked, batting his hand when the soldier scowled at him. “Oh, come on Rogers. Don’t look at me like that. Not when I got you a gift. Let’s go.”

Steve forgot his mild annoyance about his weary appearance being pointed out to him in favor of curiosity, and followed Tony out of the room and into the elevator. “What is it?”

“You forget already?” Tony smirked. “You’re slipping, grandpa.”

The Captain frowned. Then he remembered. “Oh. Right.” Warm pink filled his cheeks, and suddenly his legs felt useless. It had been so long since he’d asked this favor of Tony that he’d forgotten about it. Memory of his plan  quickly brought that heat to his face.

The engineer laughed at him and led the way to his lab, nudging a chair his direction. “Took me a while to get all the equipment I needed, but I got it. You shouldn’t notice any change in how it flies, though I added a few grams of weight to the bolts in the back just to  minimize the change. Here you go.” Proudly, Tony held up  Steve’s shield and a little wooden box, offering the objects out.

Steve set his shield on the floor and took the box in trembling hands, sitting without a lick of his usual grace in the chair and opening the lid. Inside were two perfectly smooth metal bands. He reached out to touch them, running his fingers along the edge. The weight of their meaning settling deeply in his heart, and rest of the world didn’t exist for a few silent moments while his throat tightened and the box rattled in his hand.

“Steve...?” Tony’s voice pulled him out of it. The inventor was hovering by his side, reaching out a hand and setting it on his shoulder. “You okay?”

Yeah, he was, in the sense that nothing was wrong. But at the same time, he wasn’t okay  _ at all, _ because this felt like a dream, and it was too much to fathom. Funny how you could think so hard about one idea, so hard you could imagine it as if it were real, but the moment you took a step toward making that idea real? Reality was suddenly much sharper than the dream itself, and that was jarring. Not in a bad way, though.

So he didn’t answer the question. He just sat there and let himself imagine. Those things he’d never pictured himself having were right around the corner. Tony was right: Thor wouldn’t turn him down. Maybe it would take some time to figure out the logistics of this, but that was fine. They’d make it work. They’d been making it work for years now.  _ We’ve technically been dating for years.  _ And how weird was that? Regardless of what Tony said, it was a little weird. Again, not at all in a bad way, but odd all the same. Unexpected. Unorthodox. 

“It’s  gonna be okay,” Tony was saying in a soft, quiet voice.

Yeah, it was. Steve smiled and wiped his eyes, shutting the box and holding it tightly in his hand. “Yeah,” he sighed.  _ I still don’t know how I’m  _ _ gonna _ _ do this... _

“You want some patterns on them...?  Cus I can engrave-”

“They’re perfect.” Steve looked up. “Tony, they’re perfect. Thank you.”

Tony grinned at him. “You’re a pain in my ass, Rogers. This’ll make you officially someone else’s pain in the ass. How’s that  gonna work anyway, huh? You take his name, he takes yours? Thor Rogers doesn’t sound  right, I’ll say that out of the gate. And how do these things work in Asgard? Can you become an  Odinson through marriage? Do they even have marriage on Asgard?”

“I’m pretty sure they do,” Steve grinned back, still not daring to stand up. His legs needed a few more minutes to process this before they could be trusted. “But the paperwork...” he hadn’t thought of that. God, the bureaucracy of this was going to be a nightmare. He frowned.

“You’re thinking about the press, aren’t  you. Nobody needs to find out a thing if you don’t want. I’m a little surprised the world hasn’t guessed already, but I guess the gods do favor you,” Tony mused curiously. “Be interesting to see what the world thinks of this happy union.”

Steve made a face. He wasn’t that interested. “I’d rather maybe... not.”

The inventor lifted his hands sympathetically. “Fair enough.” He pointed at the box in Steve’s hand. “Anyway, you owe me for those. You can keep them if I’m invited.”

Steve laughed. “ Of course you’re invited. You’re my best friend.”

No, more than that, Tony was his brother. Steve’s face fell, as did the inventor’s the second he noticed. Neither of them said a word, Tony in confusion for what was going on, and Steve in dread because he knew what he had to do. What he should have done weeks ago. He stood up, the ring box still held tightly in his hand as if vows yet to be spoken would be strong enough to give him strength and courage.

They absolutely were. Steve would have preferred Thor were there to give easy advice and noble wisdom, but that wasn’t an option right now. He had to do this, and do it now, while he had the strength to. Maybe it was dirty to do it like this, after Tony had just done this huge favor for him, but he  _ had _ to. It was tearing at his heart the longer he waited. “Tony. There’s something I need to tell you.”

This wasn’t a joke, and the inventor could tell. He stood still and silent, watching Steve with confusion and  apprehension . There was worry there too. Worry for Steve.  _ Don’t. Please don’t look at me like that... _

It was too late to turn back. The words were coming out. “I’m so sorry. I should have told you sooner... this is probably a bad time. A really bad time... but I gotta tell you. Tony... Bucky, he-”

“Killed my parents.” Tony cut him short, his expression suddenly blank and his posture tight. “I know.”

“Wha-”

“Natasha printed the files in the tower. JARVIS sent me the deets. Simple as that.” Tony’s voice was low and bordering on something darker, something that hadn’t been disturbed in a long time.

“Tony...” Steve breathed, unsure what else he could say, or even what he  _ should _ say. “I’m sorry.”  _ For what happened, and for not telling you sooner. _

Tony turned away and leaned on the table with his hand, the other going up to scrub his face before resting on a hip. “I wondered when you’d be down here to tell me. For a while there I thought you wouldn’t.” Bitterness and pain were breaking his voice.

“I wanted to tell you,” Steve whispered back.  _ No, I’d have been happier if I never had to. _

“I nearly blasted him, you know,” Tony was turning back around, anger taking over his expression. The pain was so raw and fresh, a wound torn wide open and given barely any time to heal again. “I put on the suit and stood by the door, tried to tell myself that I could do it. I could walk in there and beat the shit out of him, like he did to you, and then I’d finish him off like he did my parents. I’d dump him in the Potomac where he left you, and then I’d feel better.”

“Tony-”

“Did he apologize to you?” the engineer took a couple of short strides to close the distance between them, rising up to his full height. He was significantly shorter than Steve, but his presence made him seem many feet taller. A finger jammed in his face, eyes full of fear and rage and  _ worry  _ staring him and down and locking his body in place. “Did he?”

Steve worked himself from his stupor to shake his head. “N-no! But he might not remember-”

“Bullshit,” Tony growled. “You know I had to hack my way into your comm system to figure out what was going on? And then when Thor brought you here, you nearly _died_, and I was _right__ there?_ I watched your heart stop beating, and I was _helpless._ I watched you flatline on my monitors, and wondered if I could have stopped this if I’d been there.”

“Tony-!”

“ _ No! _ He should apologize,” Tony growled. “He should get on his knees and beg for forgiveness. I don’t care that HYDRA fucked him up. You think Thor’s the only one who worries about you when you get beat up? You think the rest of us don’t fret that maybe this time it’ll be too much, and the serum won’t save you? Or we won’t be close enough to help? We nearly lost you, and  _ goddammit  _ I  _ never _ want to have to watch your vitals waning like that ever again, you hear me?”

It was stupid. Neither of them could guarantee that Steve – or anyone on the team, for that matter – wouldn't make a mistake and be in the same position. Missions went wrong all the time. Even missions that went well were bound to have some mistakes. Steve and Thor were the most likely to recover from even the most serious injuries, but even  then, that was no promise that either of them would make it out alive no matter what.

It made sense now, Tony’s advice about not having to be an Avenger forever, and his sudden adamancy about taking a break. Steve felt like a child standing there, while his older brother chastised him, worried about him.

Finally, the soldier found the strength to speak. He did so softly. “You think I don’t worry about you guys too?” he clutched the box in his hand. “If I’m out there, then I can make sure everyone’s safe. I’ve lost too much, Tony. I won’t lose the only family I have as well. That means Bucky. I had to get him back any way I could. I’m sorry, I didn’t think it would come to that.”

“You’re a selfish bastard, you know that?” Tony bit out, but there was no real venom to it. H e was angry, venting. Steve let him have it. “You don’t use your goddamn head. You’re the most self-sacrificing idiot I’ve ever met. I always thought you were just a dumb blonde, and I was right. You’re an idiot.”

Tony was right about that. Steve stood in accepting silence, basking in his fate. He had nothing to say to defend himself.

“Your friend had better fucking apologize,” Tony repeated. “To you, and to all of us for making us worry.”

Steve wished Tony would have yelled and cursed at him for hiding this information from him. He wished his friend would have thrown him out, because the inventor would have deserved to. This was so much worse. Steve opened his mouth, but Tony was still reading him perfectly, even in his state of flustered anguish.

“Don’t you dare, Steve. Don’t you play the martyr here too. Yeah, he killed me parents. They’re dead. You’re not, but you could have been. I can’t bring them back, but maybe I can stop you from getting killed.” Tony was welling up, wrapping his fingers in Steve’s shirt like he wanted to sock the bigger man in the face. It probably would have hurt the inventor more than the super-soldier, but Steve would have taken it, welcomed it.

Steve swallowed, welling up too. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, and this time he wasn’t sure what for. Making his friend this desperate, he supposed. “I’m sorry I put you through that. But you can’t protect me from everything.”

“I know,” Tony snapped, but he was starting to lose his edge, slumping forward and gripping Steve’s shirt for support. “I know. Fuck, Steve, I know. But I can’t help it. I’d put all of you in Iron Man suits if you’d let me. Thor too. I’d make him one with a cape and everything.” 

Steve set down his ring box and wrapped his arms around his friend. Tony wasn’t the touchy type, but he leaned into it. Steve tightened his grip. “I know you would. You’ve saved me plenty of times. Gave me a home _ . _ You’ve been there for me plenty of times, more than I deserve for the trouble I’ve been. You’re more than your suits, Tony. You’re a good person, even if you don’t want to believe it. Fury was wrong about you. Without you, we wouldn’t have this team.”

“It’s too late, I already hate you.” That mumbled reply brought a smile to Steve’s face. Tony pulled back and glared up at the soldier. “You owe me, Rogers.”

“I know,” Steve smiled back. “You been keeping my tab?”

“Course,” Tony spun around on his heel defiantly and stormed a little too dramatically to his work bench. “After you take me to  Asgard for this bomb-ass wedding, you’re going to bring me back some souvenirs and help me find the perfect gift for Pepper.”

“You got it,” Steve smiled. He could do that. “Not sure how Thor would feel about taking his stuff, but I’ll see what I can do.”

“He lives in a castle made of gold. What could I possible take that he’d miss?” Tony scoffed. “Besides, he’s hardly been back there. He won’t remember all his inventory. I’m sure I can find a cup or two that nobody’s using.”

Steve picked up his box again and turned it in his hand. “Yeah, I’m sure you could.”

\--

That evening, Steve sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the two rings inside their carved wooden box. It was tempting to slide one onto his finger, but he didn’t. He made himself wait.  So the box was closed and left on the bedside table where he could see it as he lay down in bed to fall asleep.

_ How on earth am I going to do this... _ Steve could only bring to mind scenes he’d seen in movies. None of that seemed... right. Nothing about this was normal. It seemed fitting he found an abnormal way to go about proposing.  _ What do they do on  _ _ Asgard _ _ ? What would Thor expect? Would he be disappointed if I just asked? It’s a once-in-a-lifetime thing. And he’s already been alive for fifteen-hundred years. _ This would have to be special, something to remember for centuries to come. Steve wanted it to be a milestone, for himself and Thor alike. Especially Thor.  _ After everything you’ve given me, you deserve this.  _ Thor deserved the best proposal Steve could think of.

The only thing was, Steve couldn’t  _ think. _ Fireworks and trips to the Eiffel tower weren’t his style. He knew that people came up with elaborate and expensive schemes to propose to their significant other. He’d seen videos of planes flying in the sky and writing the words in the sky. He’d heard about special vacations to iconic locations around the world so that the proposal could be captured with a breathtaking photograph. Sometimes person would go to a location that was important to them, like where they’d fallen in love, or met for the first time. That was great for normal people, who had lived normal lives. Steve wasn’t sure taking Thor to  Sakaar would be the safest idea, even if they could get there. He smiled sadly to himself.  _ Think of that... We could go back to the arena. ‘Thor, will you marry me?’ And we’d fight our way to the ceremony waiting for us back in our cell. _

_ I’m going to ask a god to marry me. Hey Buck, remember when I couldn’t get a girl to look my way twice even with your help? Guess what. _

Steve sighed and closed his eyes, missing that firm presence of Thor’s undeniable bulk beside him, compressing the mattress and slotting up against him. He missed thick arms and legs roped in muscle wrapping tightly around him, as if he would float away in the middle of the night. He missed Thor’s deep, weighty breaths filling the silence as the demigod drew powerful gusts with his broad chest and breathed out his mouth and nose at once like a contended dog. The room was too quiet without Thor there, too cold without that rumbling, clingy furnace.

But it wouldn’t last. Thor would come back.  _ I should keep thinking, while I have the time to prepare.  _ And when Thor did return, he’d be ready. Steve closed his eyes and went to sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

Mjolnir was gone, reduced to a piled of crumbled metal in seconds. It didn’t seem real, because of the impossibility of it, but there was no denying that it was; the pain in his chest made it so.

It was a great, ripping pain, as if a sword spiked with barbs had driven through his chest. The air crackled with dissipating energy, and he felt it flee him. Something had snapped, his connection with the hammer burst and destroyed. But it wasn’t the loss of power that was hurting him, it was the loss of the bridge.

Steve.

It was so sudden, that it tore the air from his whole body. His nerves searing white hot, and when the shaky cry lurched from his mouth it surprised even Hela. That deeply-routed link to Steve was gone. In a flash, Hela had done more than simply cut a rope tying two things together. She had torn out a whole tree, pulling out each root and leaving a bloody, gaping wound behind.

She had no idea how much pain she had caused him.

He was too distracted to fight her properly. She was coming, and all he could do was  howl for Heimdall in desperation. Surtur was gone, defeated! He had been so close to going home, so close to Steve he could almost taste those soft lips-!

The bi-frost split the cloudy sky and yanked him from the ground. Thor could feel his heart beating dangerously fast, dread buzzing between his ears and slowing his brain. This couldn’t be happening. This couldn’t possibly happen now, after everything, after all these months... Thor couldn’t process it. Father was dead, and now this beast had appeared who was apparently his sister. This was a dream, it had to be. None of it made sense. Steve would arrive shortly, as he always did, wading through the chaos and protecting him effortlessly from the horrors of the nightmare. Steve would be here soon, perfect and warm and shining like a thousand suns. With spirit alone, he would fend off what Thor couldn’t, protect him tirelessly, lovingly, endlessly.

This wasn’t a dream. Thor wished it was. Hela was coming. She was flying after him. Before he knew it, before he could react or defend himself, she’d shoved him out of the rainbow current and into the unforgiving void of space.

He reached for Mjolnir without thinking, responding with muscle memory. Desperately, his fingers searched as he tumbled head over  heals , spinning and aching and screaming soundlessly for something his heart wanted but his head couldn’t process. Steve’s name was probably in there, but he couldn’t hear his own voice. Mjolnir didn’t come, and his hand clutched nothing.

Maybe it was only a second, a day, a year. It didn’t matter. Time no longer had meaning. Existence was a blur. The lack of oxygen was long enough that he blacked out, and when he regained consciousness, he was falling.

With a huge gasp, Thor’s eyes flew open, and he reached for Mjolnir once again before remembering it would  no longer come. Above him was a dark, swirling mass of blood red cloud, crackling with potent energy and twinkling with distance stars. Random objects were falling with him. What looked very much like a refrigerator whipped through the chaos and bashed him in the head, knocking his trajectory sideways. He was coming out of the cloud now, soft blue visible through cracks in this grey carpet of constant storm blanketing this portion of sky. Thor didn’t realize how fast he was falling, flying really, until he truly left the storm and was dropping through open air alongside clusters of junk. The prince shook himself from his haze and wrapped his arms around his head, angling his body and smashing into a heap of trash shoulder-first.

It hurt, but it wouldn’t kill him, though it would hardly land a mark. Thor lay sprawled at the bottom of the mound of trash he’s smashed into, clutching his aching chest as if the pressure would make the deep pain go away. He lay there, draped across a shiny piece of scrap metal,  its cool surface soothing against his cheek.

He had to get up. Thor rolled onto his back and sat up, brushing himself off and pushing a few loose strands of hair from his face. He took stock of himself and his surroundings.

This place was truly vast, heaps of trash in varying sizes scattered across miles and miles of land as the sky spat it out by the ton. Thor knew  _ exactly  _ where this was. Frankly, he was surprised he hadn’t recognized it right away the moment he’d awoken in the portal.

Sakaar . A place where lost things accumulated, gathered by currents in space that all somehow led here.

Thor couldn’t manage to feel anything other than disconnect and emptiness. He should be scared, angry, desperate. But he wasn’t. He could hardly think, everything had moved so fast. That excitement of getting to go home, of ending  Ragnarok , had been ripped away so quickly and with such brutality that nothing else had managed to crawl in to fill that space.

Thor was not a pessimist. Some would say he was naïve, optimistic but blindly so. A fool. An idiot. He wasn’t. His ability to see through the worst and find a light at the end of it all had gotten him through a lot of hurt. Right now, he couldn’t be bothered to look. There seemed to be no way out, nothing he could possibly do to correct this or search for help. 

Steve was home, waiting for him. And now Thor had lost his only means of communication. His heart felt cold and lonely, no longer connected to Mjolnir, no longer connected to Steve. It searched though, as if it couldn’t quite believe what his eyes and head knew to be the undeniable reality. Mjolnir was gone.

But his package was safe. Thor reached with sudden frantic energy into his pocket to make sure – it was there, just where he’d left it. He heaved a sigh and pressed a hand over it. 

He couldn’t sit here forever. Thor stood up, turned around, spotted high-rise buildings and signs of life far in the distance. All he had to do was get into the Grand Master’s arena, find the hangar, and find a ship.  _ Then I can fly home. That’s all I have to do. Get in there, steal a ship. Easy. I can do that.  _ Once he was in, he was certain he could remember his way to the hangar.  _ Just a little longer, Steve. I will keep my promise. _

Thor set to walking. His hand felt empty and his arm too light, used to the friendly weight of Mjolnir and its soft whisper in his ear. The feeling of vulnerability was too unpleasant to ignore, simultaneously curdling his gut with shame; he was more than Mjolnir, his worth and strength far greater than the weapon alone. He knew that,  _ Steve _ had known that, and placed his faith in it. Regardless, Thor had to bend down and pull a piece of pipe out of some rubble as he passed, yearning for the feeling of something roughly pommel-shaped to fill the vacuum in his palm. The pipe was just a plain steel alloy, incapable of sustaining Thor’s strength as he squeezed it, a poor substitute for his usual weapon. That was fine. All he asked for was the comfort of something solid in his hand.

This was going to be a long walk. Thor could have run, could have summoned his strength and closed the gap in a blur, but he didn’t. Weariness that had been weighing him down for months was still pulling on his limbs. He hadn’t sleep since defeating Surtur, hadn’t had the chance to get a good night’s rest now that  Ragnarok had been stopped and his dreams would leave him be. Part of him would miss those nightmares, because every night without fail, when the premonition came to seize his mind with full force, dragging all his other fears with it, Steve had been there and it had felt real. Steve’s arms around him had felt so real that for a moment he wasn’t in a dream at all, but back home in bed where he should be. Steve had been at his side all along, making these few months on this lonely quest bearable.

Now more than ever, he yearned for the real thing. The void in his chest throbbed, tightening in a fist around his heart so tightly he thought it might burst. A connection so deep would take a long time to heal, after being so brutally torn away. The memory of Steve’s lingering touch made him hunger for it more strenuously, but it kept him going, encouraged him to keep walking. Thor wouldn’t stop, not for anything.

A blaster fired behind him, followed almost instantaneously by a searing pain through his shoulder as the shot struck his back. It took him by surprise and knocked him off balance, nearly taking him to the ground his foot caught on a protruding piece of ambiguous trash. But Thor didn’t fall. He caught himself and turned, raising his meager weapon to defend himself. Whoever these people were, he doubted they had fought a god before.  _ You will not take me today. I may not have Mjolnir, but I am still the god of thunder.  _ Steve would have said something along those lines to him. Steve had encouraged him a lot when they’d been stuck on this same planet together, Thor without his trademark weapon. In the end, it hadn’t mattered. He’d managed to summon his power without, and several times afterward in other battles. Maybe he could do it again. His fingers crackled with anticipation, and the sky rumbled distantly with gathering storm clouds layering above those already present.  _ His _ clouds,  _ his _ power, a little less responsive than he was used to without Mjolnir to channel it, but there.

The humanoid who had fired and his small group of companions spread out, forming a semi-circle and raising their weapons. Most of them carried guns, while others toted knives and swords. There was some surprise in their expressions, clearly having expected the shot to have done more damage. They recovered quickly, observing their prey with mixtures of curiosity and lust. Thor was an object of value to be acquired, nothing more.

“Try it,” the demigod invited, sinking into his stance and brandishing his steel pole.  _ I will not be taken for the entertainment of others again. The Grand Master shall not have the pleasure of watching the God of Thunder destroy his champion a second time.  _ After everything that had happened today, he had a lot of aggression to work out. With practiced ease, he channeled all his frustrations,  _ everything, _ into pure rage. It would serve him well.

The scavengers attacked, and they did so with eagerness. Clearly, they had a lesson or two to learn. Thor swung the pole around and smashed the first unlucky attacker in the throat, snapping his neck with the fearsome blow. He ducked the sword swing of the next brave warrior and clocked him in the head as he came up, reaching and grabbing him by the collar. With one mighty sweep, he flung the scavenger into his friends. The impact was enough to break bones, but there were more enemies still to come.

One alien was standing off to the side, loading his gun and speaking in a rough, gravely language into something resembling a headset. Thor was quick to kick a chunk of dismembered ship’s hull into his hand and throw it. The object’s sharp, ragged edge imbedded itself into the scavenger’s chest and he fell dead, but the damage was already done. Backup was coming, and lots of it.

A small group of more scavengers could be seen just over the curve of the littered landscape. It wouldn’t be enough, not when Thor was so much stronger than they were, so much more resilient.  _ Bring them all. _ He picked up a fallen sword and hurled it like a javelin, spearing the next man closest. There was no way these aliens could win this fight, and they seemed to know that; another was establishing communication with his fellows, calling out urgently. Thor didn’t need to understand the language to guess what was being said.

Despite the futility of it, those creatures that were present grouped together and charged. Thor rushed to meet them, energized by his own sharp anger that he hardly had to think as he moved, his body honed by centuries of battle responding with pure instinct. Had he been paying  attention, he’d have noticed that many of his movements resembled Steve’s fighting style. Hours and hours had been spent in the gym with his Captain, and though he often won due to strength alone, Steve had been pushing him to move harder and faster and smarter in order to secure those victories. There were no other warriors like Steve, and it had forced Thor to learn, even though he had been enticed to regardless. Steve was a fascinating fighter to watch, so full of power that was always perfectly controlled and aimed exactly where it was needed. Thor had never seen a creature so large move with such grace and fluidity. Despite his broad chest and firm, full muscles, Steve hadn’t sacrificed any agility. And despite centuries of experience under Thor’s belt, Steve was still the better all-round warrior. He’d forced Thor to be faster and rely on his whole body, on  _ all _ of him instead of just smashing things out of the way with his hammer.

All that practice served him well. It didn’t matter how old or strong or seasoned Thor was: training with Steve had  honed him beyond what he’d even known was possible. He wouldn’t have thought to look, either. Now, when blows came from all directions at lightning pace, Thor was faster still. Everything seemed slow compared to Steve, every strike weak, and every punch sloppy. The demigod blocked and dodged, striking out with his arms and legs through the gaps. He snagged any object he could reach, throwing and stabbing and crushing.

By the time he worked through those  scavengers present, more had arrived. They came in droves, running across the uneven terrain and zipping through the sky in their ships. They brought guns and bigger weapons, amassing to take down this stranger. All they had to do was get an obedience disk on him, and he would be theirs to command, theirs to serve them for entertainment. Thor’s tenacity only excited them. He watched as they scampered over each other to reach him, undeterred by the number of their brethren he had already decimated.

This was going to be a long fight.  _ I can do this all day. _ Steve had said that, once, in a tone that sealed his fate all on its own, as if the phrase held some kind of spell.  _ Face the wrath of the god of thunder, and pray you find the sense to run. _ He would mow down anyone who got in his way, and had plenty of strength to give. With a mighty yell that shook the sky, Thor greeted the swarm of  scavengers intent of enslaving him.

It was to his advantage that they were all eager to take the prey for themselves. They were unorganized, fighting each other to have the pleasure of striking the final blow. Thor leaped over a heap of shattered masonry and grabbed hold of a long structural beam. The weight was nothing in his hands. He dragged it free and spun in a circle, hurling it at the ships clustering around him and aiming their canons. The object struck, and the first ship exploded a heartbeat later, knocking the others nearby off center. Thor ran and jumped over a swinging sword, vaulting easily over a half-dozen heads. He ran, ran up a small hill of trash and found purchase on a large chunk of steel siding. The demigod planted his feet and bunched his legs, leaping high in the air and grabbing the canon dropping out the bottom of the nearest ship. The ship tipped sideways with the momentum, and Thor spun his legs, forcing the canon around to aim at the craft beside it. Bright blasts tore into it, and the ship exploded, throwing the ship Thor was clinging to sideways and dislodging the god himself. He turned in the air like a cat and landed on his feet, scooping up a sword in one hand, and pulling one free from a body with the other.

\--

When Steve had said ‘all day’, the underlying assumption had been that the soldier would fight for as long as it took. The fight hadn’t been expected to go on literally _ all  _ day.

Time was difficult to measure, and was certainly moving faster than it would have had he been wandering quietly across this post-modern wasteland. But when the sun began to set, he was surprised.

Not surprised, exactly. Aggravated was a more apt term. Of course, even worn out as he’d been before engaging in this skirmish, his body was far from spent. There was a lot of fight left in him, and these scavengers knew it. They hadn’t stopped calling for backup, bulking up their ranks before Thor could thin them, pelting him with attacks from all angles. They were starting to work together.

At this point, it had to be more about principle than anything. Surely Thor wasn’t worth the trouble or the bodies.  Surely they would realize they couldn’t sustain the loss.

Oddly enough, there appeared to be no shortage of bodies on this planet. Even if they hadn’t all come from the immediate area, the fight had been going long enough that Thor was certain plenty of them had gathered from farther away. He didn’t care. He was getting out of this alive, and nothing short of death would stop him from fighting.

\--

The sun rose again. He was starting to feel it, starting to realize he wasn’t thinning the ranks as quickly as before. He’d moved a long way from where he’d started, the giant holes in the sky spitting detritus across the landscape far in the distance, their light flickering across angry clouds. None of those clouds were his. He’d tried to summon his power, tried to gather enough lightning to deal damage and strike down some of these ships emptying their ammo on him. All he’d managed was to give one enemy a heart attack before his power had fizzled out.

Those pilots weren’t fantastic shots, but they were persistent, crisscrossing their patterns and trying to force his movements. A couple of blasts had hit their mark, surprisingly few, but still enough to slow him down. The sun was setting again.

Morning came faster than last time. His body felt heavy, aching muscles begging for just a few moments of rest. Thor ignored them, ignored the gouges in his armor, many of which were deep enough to reach flesh. He was getting sloppy, not blocking as efficiently or dodging as well. Even a god had limits. Perhaps he was reaching his.

_ No. All day. For as many days as it takes. _

He had quickly lost track of how many days that had been. A few, at this point. Thor couldn’t remember when that cut on his leg had appeared, could hardly feel it anyway. He couldn’t remember how the burns on his arm had come to be, nor the blood dribbling into his eye. He was too tired to hurt, and too determined to succumb to what his body yearned for. This was not the end.

And if it was, then it would be a glorious end, and he would take down as many of these bastards with him as he could.

_ Steve. Stay alive. Fight, win. Live. Steve. _ The world had been reduced to that, a string of simple but perfectly clear thoughts. All the muddle of where he was and how he’d gotten here was simply background noise. He forgot about it.  _ All day. All day. _

Someone managed to get their hands around his arm, and it took a few shakes to shed them. Thor gathered his massive strength and swung a punch, his aim vastly hindered by the blood in his eyes and a thick haze blinding what of the world he could still see. His fist connected, so he drew back and struck out for another. A body fell, crushed. Someone struck him from behind, in the back, but he felt only the weight of it, and none of the pain. Thor spun around and kicked out, relying entirely on momentum and what remained of his reflexes to keep him from falling. The heel of his boot crushed the chest of the scavenger who had hit him, crushing more bones and sending the body flying backward into his companions. A shot from a ship above hit him in the chest, and he fell, knocked off his feet with the force of it. Immediately, bodies swarmed over top of him and blocked out the falling sun.

There was more fight left in him. Thor rolled, wrapped his hands around the nearest object. He bashed down one scavenger and grabbed another to use as a shield against more oncoming shots. 

The sun rose again, and he knew he was losing. He had been for days. There was no way he could win this. A little voice in his brain screamed, and he finally found the clarity to listen to it.  _ Steve. Steve. He’ll find you. He’ll come. He’ll know. Help him. Help him find you. _

How on earth was he supposed to do that? Thor suddenly felt  very awake, smacking aside an enemy so he could make a short break for it. All he needed was a few seconds to scour the area, and come up with an idea. Steve would come for him, had come for him before. And Thor had proclaimed the Captain was his secret weapon. He hadn’t been kidding, or trying to be sappy and sentimental. He’d meant it, every word. Steve was smart, determined, and too damn caring for his own good. He would come, somehow. Thor would do his best to help, and hold out for as long as possible.

At the sight of a flagpole in the distance, he knew exactly what to do. Thor gathered what was left of his strength, blinked his eyes clear, squared his jaw, and ran. This sense of purpose kept his legs moving swiftly and deftly across the uneven ground, carrying him smoothly across the distance. His attackers chased him. They would catch up soon, injured and tired as he was. There wasn’t much left for him to give.

It looked like a flagpole, at least. The details didn’t matter. It was sticking high out of the garbage pile, bend but tall and strong. Thor reached up to his shoulders and ripped off his cape, yanking the destroyed, frayed, bloody fabric free. He held it in his teeth and jumped, struggling to climb the rest of the way to the top with his blood-slicked hands. A shot fired over his shoulder, and missed. Thor wrapped his legs around the pole and grit his teeth, clamping down on his cape in determination as he bent the top of the pole into a loop. Then, he tied his cape in place with a tight knot.

It was done.  _ He _ was done. Almost. Thor let go and dropped to the ground, his legs not quite catching him as he’d hoped. He fell on one knee, shaky with exertion. This was it, the last stand. He’d thinned the scavengers’ ranks to an impossible degree, but there were still enough left to overpower him. Thor fought them with the strength he had left, a fearsome glare in his eyes. In those last few moments of defiance, his head felt clear. Perhaps a distant cloud crackled with thunder.

It was too late. It was over. He fell before the final blow could be struck, physically spent.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The adventure begins B)
> 
> Thank you for your comments! I'm so glad you guys are enjoying this.

Fury had another lead for them. The Avengers suited up and flew South. It was a standard bust. Natasha and Clint went in first to scope out the area, then Steve followed to help flush out the HYDRA agents hidden inside. The others kept the perimeter, and together they took down another base and flew home.

Steve peeled off his helmet the second he got back on the  quinjet , shaking out his hair and raking it back from his face. It was getting rather long, but he couldn’t be bothered to cut it, or shave off the beard that had taken up a permanent residence on his face. The others had stopped ribbing him about his sudden change from his clean-cut appearance.

Desperate to scrub the layer of dirt and soot caking him, Steve rushed off the  quinjet the second they landed and hopped in the shower. There had been no casualties today, and nothing that needed seeing to. Everyone had gotten out in good shape, apart from HYDRA. All according to plan, and all without Thor. They’d managed without their heavy-hitter again today, and they’d have managed without Steve. When he looked back on the battle, he could see that clearly.

Steve dried himself off. The Avengers would survive without him, without Thor. It was hard not to be fearful for their safety, knowing that if something befell one of the team he would wrestle with guilt –  _ If I were there, could I have stopped it? What if they just needed the extra man? What if civilians died because I wasn’t there? What if? _ Christ, he hadn’t even left, and already he was fretting.

He still wasn’t sure if he  _ wanted _ to leave.

_ One thing at a time. _ Steve got dressed and went to sit in the lounge of his suite, putting his feet up and staring at the painting on the wall across from him – a lush temperate forest, brimming with life and exploding with greens of every hue, an elk drinking peacefully from a brook amidst it all. He’d made this months ago, and given it to Thor as a Christmas present. It had taken him a couple months to complete.

It was one of Thor’s favorites. His love for Earth fauna was endearing and exuberant. Steve smiled to himself and picked up his  Starkpad laying on the coffee table, typing ‘forest’ into the search bar. The screen filled with endless images of forests of all types. Steve scrolled lazily, flicking his eyes from one photo to the next.  _ Maybe I could take him somewhere like this, _ he thought to himself, already imagining himself and Thor in the trees, maybe by a waterfall just like the one in the photograph. He flushed at the thought.  _ I could do it right here. At the right time of day, the sun would come through the trees at that angle... _

Steve lost himself in his daydreams, quickly diverting off his original course to other images. Pictures of waterfalls quickly led to majestic rivers, which in turn led to steep mountains and high cliffs stretching over valleys washed in the soft pink light of morning. The farther he delved, the more he realized how small the bubble he lived in really was, and how little of this planet he’d explored. It was all there waiting for him. 

“Mister Stark is requesting you join the team for dinner,” JARVIS’s sudden interruption made him jump. “Shall I alert him you’re on your way?”

Steve shut off the tablet and set it down, broken from his brief moment of blissful disconnect. He’d been floating, in a world where the Avengers didn’t matter, where he was just a man living his life. “Yeah, thanks JARVIS. Tell him I’ll be down right away.”

It would be wise to spend time with his friends instead of holed up alone. These dreams were not unobtainable, and there was no sense in wallowing. All Steve had to do was wait until Thor came back.

So he smoothed out his shirt, put on some socks and combed his hair, making sure he didn’t look like a mess before stepping into some shoes and going for the door.

Bucky was there when he opened it, leaned back hesitantly on his heels as he so often did, but looking a little more alive and functioning. Every day he seemed more like a man and less like a machine. He was taking more initiatives, doing more for himself without asking permission, relaxing easier around other people, around Steve. And he was talking, sometimes initiating a conversation on his own. There was a long way to go, but they were en-route. 

It was usual for Bucky to come by his suite after a battle to check on him, but Steve had been so lost in his own world that he’d forgotten about this routine. He immediately pushed aside the remainder of his thoughts trying to linger on his fantasy, and let Bucky inside.

His friend eyed him suspiciously for a moment, stepping inside and looking him up and down. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Steve smiled. “Yeah, I am.” His let Bucky have that moment to scan him until the other man was satisfied that he was physically unhurt.

“Everybody okay?”

Steve had a feeling that by that, Bucky meant Sam, given he hadn’t properly met anyone else. “Yeah, they’re all okay. We’re gonna have dinner in a minute. Wanna come?”

Bucky thought about it for a second, scratching at his shoulder where metal met flesh. “Okay.”

“Good, let’s go,” Steve beamed.

The team gathered around a table in the common living area, surrounded by food, clean and hungry to eat it . Bucky took his place on a chair at the outskirts of the group, between Steve and Sam. As usual, the group welcomed him, but gave him space. They ate, they dealt cards, they laughed. When Steve glanced over, he caught a soft smile on Bucky’s face. The other man was slightly reclined in the chair, angled so his metal arm was mostly hidden behind him, food in his lap. He observed the card game in silence, but for once appeared totally at ease.

That evening, Bucky followed him back to his suite, his posture relaxed even further despite the underlying tension his dragging metal arm created across his shoulders and side. Steve went to the kitchen to make some hot coffee. The espresso machine Tony had bought Thor was right there, barely used since the demigod had left. Steve didn’t mind frothy milk and strong espresso, but he preferred a good drip coffee with a little bit of cream. It reminded him of the old days, when a mug of coffee was something special and rare. The memories associated with it were pleasant.

Given that neither of the super-soldiers would be kept up by the caffeine, Steve didn’t worry about the time, or how strong he made the drink. He sat down beside his friend and handed over the mug of steaming liquid, sipping at his own. Bucky clasped the mug and stared at it for a moment before putting it to his lips.

“Mm.” Licking his lips, the assassin took another taste.

Both of them were quite content to just sit there and drink in silence, enjoying the company. At least, Steve hoped Bucky was enjoying it. He liked to think so, given the man had followed on his own volition, but he knew he couldn’t make assumptions like that.  _ Maybe he still thinks he has to come with me. _

Bucky  _ wanted _ to be here: he finished his drink and set the mug on the floor, leaning back on the couch with a sigh. When Steve looked over, his friend’s eyelids were halfway closed with contentment, his lips barely touching as he breathed evenly through them. “You really made a life for yourself, huh Stevie.” The assassin opened his eyes and turned.

“I had a little help,” Steve smiled. “Wasn’t easy, but these are good people.”

“Seems like it,” Bucky smiled, watching as the Captain picked up the empty mugs and took them to the kitchen.

He  _ had _ made a life for himself, but what sort of life was it? Fighting for the Avengers and the world, and nothing else? This life was going to get a lot better once Thor came back and he went after the only thing he really  _ wanted. _ And if he stayed with the Avengers after that, maybe that was fine.

One mug made it to the cabinet, but the other dropped from his hand, his fingers locked in place and his body jolting as if he’d been electrocuted. Pain lanced through his heart, burning his chest and stealing his breath so suddenly he couldn’t even manage a gasp. The ceramic cup struck the floor and broke into pieces.

Bucky was at his side before he totally grasped what had happened, his large hand gripping his shoulder tightly. “Steve, you get hit?”

No, he hadn’t. He was fine, he knew that for certain. Steve shook his head, leaning into the counter and his friend for support as his large frame tipped unsteadily. It felt like his chest was bleeding, but when he looked down, it wasn’t. His shirt was spotless.

Something  _ hurt. _

“Stevie, what’s wrong? You’re all white.” Bucky was clutching his arm and starting to pull him back. “Come on, sit down before you topple over.”

Sit, yes, that would be smart. Steve followed obediently and allowed himself to be pushed back onto the couch while he gripped his chest with one hand. It felt like something had been ripped out of him. The pain was more of an emotion than a physical response, but it hurt all the same.  _ Something’s wrong.  _ He couldn’t put his finger on what.

“You  havin ’ a heart attack or  somethin ’?” Bucky stood over him, lowered to one knee and pressed his flesh hand under his jaw for a pulse.

“No,” Steve breathed. “No, I’m okay.” He knew that much. His body was fine.

“Seventy years didn’t make you a better liar,” Bucky snorted. “You better tell me what’s wrong, or I’ll just have to find out myself.”

This was the most human Bucky had been since taking up residence here. Steve hardly noticed, because his ears were ringing, and his body felt heavy. Something was missing, leaving a gouged a hole in his chest. “It’s...” he needed to explain himself; why he’d dropped the cup and had a breakdown. It wasn’t that simple – not even  _ Steve _ knew what had happened.

_ Thor.  _ Familiar strength and warmth were gone. Steve had spent long enough woven with Thor’s consciousness through their shared sway of Mjolnir to know that it was gone, severed all the way through. 

“Stevie, what’s wrong? I thought you weren’t supposed to have heart problems anymore.”

Steve shook his head immediately. This wasn’t a tremor, or a palpitation. This was worse. “Thor,” he stood up, staggering for the door. Bucky grabbed his arm and tugged him back firmly, using all his strength to overpower the other super-soldier.

“You’re not  goin ’ anywhere until you tell me what’s  goin ’ on, punk.”

“Thor, it’s Thor,” Steve blurted, as if that was a substantial explanation. “Something’s wrong. He’s... something happened.”  _ Please no. _

Anything but that. Thor couldn’t be dead. But the connection was gone. Steve reached out and found nothing but void. Actually... there was nothing to reach  _ for. _ When he tried to find Mjolnir’s powerful hum, it wasn’t there. It  _ should _ be there. It always was, since the moment he’d first picked it up. The hammer hadn’t stopped its gentle reminder that it was there for him if he wanted to call for it. It wouldn’t make sense for it to just stop.

_ Unless I’m not worthy. _ Steve felt himself pale further.  _ I abandoned Thor. I should have  _ _ forced _ _ him to let me come.  _

_ Then why now and not when he left?  _ Steve shook his head. If the hammer still found him worthy, that meant the hammer just wasn’t there, and he didn’t want to think about what that option implied.

Worst of all, there was nothing he could do. Thor wasn’t here, and he had no way of contacting the demigod, and no way to get to  Asgard . Steve swallowed roughly, overwhelmed. He looked at his hands, and found they were still shaking. His chest still ached, his connection with Thor  _ ripped _ away... Thor couldn’t be dead. He couldn’t. Steve refused to believe it.

“Your magical boyfriend?” Bucky was replying. “Hey, look at me. I  gotta know you’re okay. You get poisoned?” A hand grabbed his face and lifted it up to catch the light, his friend’s eyes searching for answers Steve’s mouth couldn’t give.

“I wasn’t poisoned,” Steve whispered, finding his voice. “And I didn’t get  hit. I promise. Buck, I promise.”

“Then what?” Bucky stared expectantly at him, a little fear in his eyes that was reminiscent of the man he used to be, of when Steve’s body had  _ always _ been failing him in some capacity.

“It’s Thor.”  _ I said that already. _ What else was there to say? Steve had no idea how he was supposed to explain his relationship with the demigod, whom Bucky had never met. It wouldn’t make much sense if he tried to explain Mjolnir, either. “I just... I have this feeling. Something happened. I don’t know what, but I know it’s not right.”

Bucky believed him. Maybe it was years of experience looking after Steve that helped, or just plain  old conviction in Steve’s voice, but he let go and sat down heavily. The worry didn’t fade, though. “What  do we do?”

“ Nothin ’ we  _ can _ do,” Steve sighed, swallowing tears. “I have no way of contacting him.”

Bucky’s hand reached up and patted him on the shoulder gently. “He’ll be okay. He’s strong, right?”

“Stronger than me,” Steve agreed readily.

“Then he’ll be fine.”

\--

Steve hoped and prayed Bucky was right, even though he knew in his gut that something dreadful had happened. He lay awake contemplating all the possible explanations for why his bond with Mjolnir was simply non-existent. It wasn’t just that Thor wasn’t on the other side of the bridge, the bridge was gone altogether. Thor was still the owner of the hammer, right?  So if something happened to him, did that negate  Steve’s ability to wield it? Steve didn’t know the rules on that. He didn’t know much, to be honest. That was infuriating.

Bucky stayed, insisting he keep nearby just in case. In case of what, neither of them knew, but Steve was glad for the company. His friend took the couch as usual, and Steve went to bed.

The bed was too empty, emptier even than before now that he could no longer feel Thor’s strength through Mjolnir. He migrated to the floor, laying on the carpet and dragging a pillow and blanket with him. Steve managed a couple of restless hours.

Those hours of sleep held only his own dreams. Not once did he find himself dragged into Thor’s mind, and tonight that was worrisome. Instead, Steve dove straight into his own nightmares. They were fueled by rampant fear. He woke up in a sweat, tangled in his blanket and uncomfortably sprawled on the firm surface beneath him.  _ Wherever you are, I hope you’re okay. I hope you slept, that your nightmares are gone because you stopped  _ _ Ragnarok _ _ . _

Steve pulled himself off the floor with a groan and sat on the edge of his bed. There was the box, still resting where he’d left it. He picked it up and opened the lid, staring at the two rings inside. His chest ached to look at them.  _ Please. I can’t lose anything else. Please, don’t take him away from me.  _ The lid closed with a small snap as he tightened his hand around the box, pulling it against his chest. All the strength left him, and he slumped sideways into the pillows, wrestling with the growing sense that this wasn’t  _ fair. _

Tears came freely now, and he couldn’t stop them, didn’t bother to try. They were fat and ruthless tears, seizing all control off his body. All he could do was lie there, curled tightly around the rings while his body shook.

This was stupid, he knew that, because Thor could be fine. Maybe he’d stopped  Ragnarok , and for some reason had needed to sacrifice his hammer to do it. There were endless possibilities. But the pain in his chest and the dread in his gut won, beating out logic for pure grief.

“Stevie...?” He heard Bucky’s soft call from the doorway, but couldn’t respond, not even to try and hide himself away. He was in too much pain to be embarrassed. “Stevie, what’s wrong?” A hand clasped his shoulder and started to push him onto his back. Stong fingers pried his own away and wrestled free the box. “Hey, shh. What’s wrong? Come on, you’re  scarin ’ me.” That voice was all Bucky, and none of the Winter Soldier, warm and coaxing.

Steve tried to pull the box back, because it was all he had, and no-one was supposed to  _ know _ -! But it was too late, Bucky had it. Steve opened his eyes and watched his friend open it.

“Aw Stevie.” Bucky shut the box and set it aside and reached in. Just like that, they were hugging tightly. Steve sat off the pillows so he could be properly wrapped up in his friend’s arm. They hadn’t hugged in seventy years, and it was everything he’d hoped for. Even with one functioning arm, Bucky was strong, enveloping him. No words would make this better, so his friend didn’t try, simply offering his comfort. It was all Steve could have asked for, and he soaked it up.

“Maybe I should get that arm fixed,” Bucky murmured. “ So I can hug you properly.”

“ Huggin ’ me just fine,” Steve mumbled back, managing a little smile.

Bucky squeezed harder. “We’re  gonna be okay, Steve. Both of us.”

Steve hitched a breath and swallowed. “Yeah...”

\--

Maybe  Ragnarok couldn’t be stopped. Steve thought about that as he worked through breakfast. Bucky had been himself all morning, fretting just like he had decades ago. When JARVIS spoke, they both listened.

“Captain Rogers, you have a visitor.” The AI sounded urgent, but Steve would have run regardless. He forgot his cereal and took long strides to the door, Bucky on his heels and the worst of thoughts in his brain. He wasn’t sure if he should be scared or excited.  _ Thor. Thor’s back. He’s back! Please let him be alive, let him be okay... _

JARVIS took the elevator to the common floor, and there waited the other Avengers. Clearly, everyone had been drawn from their morning activities, Sam gearing up for a run, and Clint bleary-eyed.

Among them stood Odin, dressed in the same golden armor Steve had seen him in the brief time they’d met. His eyes seemed different, sadder and more alert. He looked regal standing there in the kitchen space, a staff in his hand and his cloak floating around his ankles. The  Allfather looked up as Steve raced over, fixing him with a stare that didn’t bother to hide his urgency and worry.

“Captain.” Odin dressed him cordially.

“Where’s Thor?” he couldn’t help blurting it out. Steve walked right up to the king of Asgard, unconcerned with their past encounters, or the Asgardian’s view of him. He didn’t care at all. All he cared about was Thor. “Where is he?”

Odin regarded him calmly, but there was fear in his eyes. “You must come with me. Quickly. Our time is short.”

“Woah woah,” Tony butted in, shoving Steve aside and jamming a finger in the king’s face. “He’s not going anywhere without an explanation. I don’t care who you are. In case you missed it, we all care a lot about our thunder prince, so you better at least let us know if he’s alive.”

Odin didn’t respond right away, and his pause accelerated Steve’s heartbeat so badly he felt like he might pass out. But the  Allfather obliged, accepting the inventor’s outburst with apology in his expression. That, Steve hadn’t expected. “I doubt Thor is dead,” he explained, “but I cannot be certain. He has gone missing, and I know not where. Asgard has been attacked.”

“ Ragnarok ?” Steve breathed.

Odin frowned. “You know of this?”

“Is it  Ragnarok ?” he replied firmly.

“No, it is not, at least not yet,” the king replied with a submissive sigh. “Please, we must hurry. I cannot search for him alone. Captain, you must come with me.”

“Let me get-” the soldier started to turn, but Tony had his arm in a flash.

“Steve this is crazy,” the inventor growled. “You can’t just up  and go.”

“I have to. I have to get him back,” Steve pulled his arm away and walked through the others, breaking into a run. He had to. Thor was alive, and he had to get find him. There was no time to think, not right now. Nobody else tried to stop him. 

This was what he’d feared, that Thor would leave on his quest and run into trouble that Steve could have helped him with.  _ Doesn’t matter now. I’m coming. Just hang on.  _ He went right to his closet, pushing aside all of last night’s fears in favor of focus. He was an Avenger, and he had a mission to complete. Steve glanced at his stealth suit, but quickly brushed it aside in favor of his Avengers uniform, with the white and red stripes, and the logo on the shoulders. He pulled it on with sure hands, fastening the buckles and tightening the straps.

Captain America was a stupid title. He’d always hated being called something that ridiculous. But Captain America defied impossible odds. Captain America raced into war zones without fear, and raced right back out again. Captain America was a war hero who had saved many. So whoever had Thor, whoever had hurt and taken him away, they would face the full power of Captain America, the legend and the man. It didn’t matter if this was space, that America had no meaning, and his title had no value. They would know, when he was finished. When Steve Rogers was taking Thor from them and bringing him back where he belonged. 

Waiting, he had a hard time with. But this? This was something he could do. And that gave him the strength to focus.

The others were waiting for him. He appeared in  full gear, shield on his back and his helmet under his arm. He was ready.

“We could come,” Tony approached. “Say the word, Cap. He’s your thunder god, but he’s our friend too.”

“We’re a team,” Natasha agreed, taking his hand.

He was about to reply, but Odin was there, landing the end of his staff on the floor with a metallic smack. “No. Only the Captain.”

Odin had housed Steve in his kingdom enough times already. The king would hardly want to bring more mortals if he could avoid it. Frankly, Steve was surprised the Asgardian was here seeking his help at all. It was so unlikely he never would have considered the possibility on his own. A little bit of pride warmed his heart and swelled his chest – despite his dislike of mortals, and all the havoc Steve had brought with him during his various visits to the golden kingdom, Odin was still here, asking for his help to bring back his son. 

Steve would have liked to have his team beside him though. He smiled at them apologetically, sliding his helmet onto his head so he could reach out with both arms and accept the hug Natasha was coming to give him.

“Be careful Steve,” she squeezed him. “We’ll worry.”

“I know. I’ll worry about all of you,” he smiled as she kissed his chin fondly.

Sam gave him a hug too, and Bucky. “Be careful, punk,” his friend warned. “You better come back.”

“Course I will,” Steve reassured. “You be careful too. Take care of yourself. And look after my friends while I’m gone.” Would Bucky be okay?

Of course he would be. Sam was here, and the others. They would all take care of each other.

Tony was last, drawing Steve into a tight embrace without hesitation. “You bring him back,” the inventor spoke firmly. “You bring him back, and you bring yourself back. Be safe, Steve.”

“Thanks, Tony,” Steve hugged tightly back. “I’ll get us both home, I promise.”

“I know you will,” the inventor pulled back, managing a confident smile. “Then you owe me a trip to Asgard. You owe all of us.” He cast a glance to Odin. “Work your charm. He’ll come round. He owes you.”

Odin said nothing to that, staring straight on in stoic silence, agitated but trying not to show it. Steve pulled away from his friends and walked backward after the Allfather, giving his friends one last wave goodbye before turning around and buckling up his helmet. The pair stepped onto the balcony, bright morning air cool on their faces.

The bi-frost did not cut down to meet them, rather Odin pulled a familiar object from thin air and turned to face him. “Ready?” he asked, and did not await a reply. The tesseract swallowed them both in a blink.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thor is having a VERY bad day.
> 
> Been slackin' a bit on the drawings, but I have a few on the go :)

He was alive, at the very least. Thor knew that much when he regained some sense of awareness. Everything was coming back to him very slowly, and whatever cognizance he managed to regain knew he wasn’t just going to spring back like usual. 

Even gods had limits. Thor had surpassed his. 

He hadn’t expected to be killed. The proud warrior in him wished he had; it would have been a noble way to go, fighting until his last breath. He’d taken down so many before they had eventually beaten him simply with persistence and numbers. He would have found his place in Valhalla, that much was certain. The small voice telling him this was easily drowned by the much louder call of his heart clinging for life. Whatever happened to him, he had to live. _ I have to survive. I have to get out. _ Thor wouldn’t give up. 

There wasn’t much he _ could _ do at the minute. His body simply wouldn’t respond. After a few attempts to move, he managed to shift his arm across the floor. He was lying down then, on his stomach, sprawled across hard ground. A frigid draft licked his bare cheek. A strand of hair fluttered against his skin, the end glued down with dried blood. 

That was all he could manage. For all his strength, endless as it sometimes seemed, he was wiped. There was nothing left to give. It was taking a lot just to stay awake, and even now he could feel his consciousness slipping. Thor fought his eyes open, so he could at least get a look at where he was. One eye was firmly sealed shut with blood and pressed into the ground, while the other was too blurry to see much out of. Swatches of varying tones of grey greeted him. Perhaps those long, darker shapes were bars, but he couldn’t be sure. The hard ground and chilled, damp air certainly seemed to confirm that suspicion. 

All of him ached, though not as badly as he knew it should. Thor couldn’t feel most of his body anyway. He could just make out the shape of his hand near his face, the skin smeared with so much dirt and blood he could hardly make out the skin beneath. With a defeated sigh, he shut his eye. 

When he opened it, someone was entering the cell, two someones. He could barely feel their arms wrapping around his and lifting him off the floor, let alone resist. In his heart he knew he should be fighting, trying to free himself, or at least protesting and shouting promises of wrath – _ nobody _ handled the god of thunder like that. 

_ I am not the god of thunder. Not here. _Maybe not anywhere. Where was his famed power? What sort of god couldn’t manage to at least keep his eyes open long enough to see where he was being taken? A part of his brain must have registered how much he hurt, but it wasn’t connecting to his thoughts properly. He blacked out, numb. When he woke, he’d stopped moving. The cell was gone, replaced with lush colors that were blinding to the one eye he could peel open. He squinted, but it didn’t help. 

People were talking and moving around him, but he couldn’t hear anything other than a dull buzz. _ Perhaps my ears are full of blood. _ That was possible. He wouldn’t be surprised. 

Was he kneeling? The ground was closer than it should be, someone holding him up by his shoulders. He’d have pitched forward otherwise. At least the ground wasn’t hard on his knees, because he couldn’t feel them. 

There was more chatter. It sounded like he was underwater, the way their voices floated around him, speaking words, but nothing he could discern, as if he’d suddenly forgotten English. Maybe they weren’t speaking English at all. He truly couldn’t tell. 

A shape blocked the light, washing his vision with glittery gold and blue. Thor squeezed his eye shut. The hand on his chin, he _ did _ feel, long fingers in his dirty beard. A voice addressed him, very close to his face, but he couldn’t process any of what was said. It all sounded like meaningless garble. The voice repeated itself, forming similar sounds in a more rushed tone. It didn’t matter – Thor still had no idea what was being said. 

The voice gave up, finally. More words were exchanged above him, and he was vaguely aware of his body being tugged upward and dragged away again. He lost consciousness again. 

This time when he awoke, Thor was acutely aware of the sound that had roused him – a razor. It buzzed angrily in his ear. He managed both eyes this time, and they flew open in alarm. There were his feet, still in his boots, smeared with dried dirt and blood like the rest of him, the tough leather gouged, and metal clasps scorched. The rest of him probably looked similar. 

Between his feet were locks of golden hair. It was matted and dirty, but his. _ Not anymore. _ Another few strands floated down, blurring with the others as it fell farther away than his eyes could focus. 

With how heavy his head felt, he hardly missed the weight of his hair. But it was gone, he knew that, hacked down short enough that he couldn’t see it anymore. The procedure didn’t last long. Thor didn’t care. His hair would grow back. _ Have to live. _If they were going to hurt him, torture him, he had to be strong. And if they tortured him now, he probably wouldn’t have felt it. 

They didn’t. 

His leg shifted, but not on his own accord. Someone was pulling off his boots one at a time. Off came his armor next, and this time he did register pain. The rigid chest-plate scraped and tugged on his skin. Whoever was taking it off wasn’t gentle either, roughly lifting his arms so the armor could come off. Cold steel wrapped around his wrists. A rough hand pushed his head back, and a final clamp fixed itself around his neck. He’d have laughed if he had the strength, but then, the joke wouldn’t have been funny. 

_ Stay alive. _ That simple task was all he had to worry about. He didn’t have to worry about escaping, and he couldn’t remember exactly why, but he wasn’t worried. Not in the least. _ Stay alive. _ Whatever befell him here wouldn’t last. Maybe the next time he opened his eyes, he would be free. How that would work exactly, he didn’t know, but a part of his brain was so sure it was possible that he didn’t argue the details with himself. 

The place he was brought was definitely familiar, by its color scheme at least. He’d been here before. 

_ Sakaar _ _ . _That, he knew. He also knew the face approaching him. The shimmery gold and blue again. Something inside of him remembered to be angry – this man was bad. 

“Well look who it is. Lord of Thunder. Funny our paths should cross again. You owe me a champion.” 

Finally, words were making sense. Thor wasn’t so sure he wanted to hear anything this man had to say, though. Regardless, he couldn’t find the strength to reply, or the cognizance to make full sentences. Stringing a few words together from the muck of his mind was challenging enough. _ I just want to sleep. _

Not a problem. Let his man take him where he pleased. If they’d bothered to bring him here, they wouldn’t kill him in his sleep. He let his eyes slide shut in their own time, too tired to speed up the process. 

“This certainly makes things easier. You’ll fit right in with my collection.” The voice didn’t care that he wasn’t paying attention anymore. He barely caught the end of it. “You must truly be lost to end up here twice, Lord of Thunder...” 

Lost? Maybe he _ was _ lost. _ No. _ He knew where he belonged, where his path led. It led all the way home. _ Steve. _

His pocket. Thor’s eyes flew open. He couldn’t see his legs from this far away, and couldn’t move his head to get closer. He was still dressed in his own pants, given the dark shapes where his legs should be. He had something in his pocket that he absolutely could not lose. Whatever it was, it was worth everything. _ Don’t lose it, stay alive. _ Two simple tasks. Thor blinked himself awake enough to shift his hips. He felt the object push into his thigh when he did, and relief he couldn’t explain flooded him. His eyelids fell shut again. _ Everything will be alright. _ How he knew, he couldn’t say. His brain shut off. 

\-- 

Thor must have been out for a long time. It felt that way, at least. Some feeling had ebbed back into his limbs, and he felt slightly more awake. That was turning out to not be such a good thing. The pain was spread relatively evenly, his brain still too muddled to focus on anything in particular. His torso was upright, he could tell that much, his shoulders aching in particular – his arms were raised to sides, then, but there wasn’t as much pressure on his wrists as there could be. He was sitting, hard floor and hard wall pushing into his beaten body. 

“This seems redundant, but we can’t be too careful, can we. You’ve proven tricky in the past.” He knew that voice. It had taunted him once before, threatened someone he cared about. _ Steve. You hurt Steve. _ Thor opened his eyes in time to see a hand approach his face. He couldn’t pull away, and small pins pierced his neck. He knew that sensation, too. 

_ Obedience disk. _ Electricity briefly jolted his body, and it took him by enough surprise to push a short, startled cry out of his otherwise-uncooperative lips. 

“Good, it does work. Welcome back to my esteemed establishment, Lord of Thunder,” the Grand Master stepped back, leaning over him. There was a touch more malevolence than before, something darker tainting carefree laziness. “You made quite the mess when you last visited, but as you can see we managed just fine without you. Rebuilt the arena, found new a champion, carried on. But I must say I missed you. You and your friend. Is he still alive?” 

Oh yes, Steve was very much alive. Thor managed a glare, focusing his eyes firmly on the Grand Master. _ You will find out eventually. Be careful what you plan on doing to me. _

“I doubt you’d make much of a competitor in your state, but I have other uses for you. My brother has quite the collection. I think he would like to have an Asgardian among it.” There was a brief, contemplative pause that was entirely for show. The Grand Master tapped his chin thoughtfully. “On second thought, I would quite like to keep you. I keep a few things myself. Sometimes a thing is too beautiful to give away. You know, when you buy a gift for someone but fall in love with it so much you end up keeping it? My brother will understand.” 

His pride screamed, but his heart breathed a sigh of relief. _ Playthings are kept alive. That’s all I have to do, stay alive. _

Stay alive for Steve. The pieces snapped together. He remembered his purpose. _ I am truly sorry, Steve... this was never supposed to happen. I am sorry for causing you worry. Come for me. Free me from this place and take me home. And I will never depart on a quest again. _

Stay alive for Steve. The very thought served as a foundation on which to build other thoughts. It filled him with pure purpose and hope. Steve had come for him before. Steve would find him, even without Mjolnir to guide them together. _ I must do everything I can to help him. _ The cape tied to the flagpole somewhere in that wasteland far away from where he was now was only one small clue. He had to give more. _ I am the god of thunder. _ That would never change. He barely had any power to give, and without Mjolnir and his usual focus, it was nearly impossible to find that power inside himself. But he _ had _ to, so he did. It fled from his grasp, mere wisps of its usual prowess. He could barely summon the focus to stay awake, let alone produce any lightning. 

_ We have so much more life to live together. I have so much yet to do and experience with you, and our other friends. But mostly you. Come find me. _ His fingertips crackled a little, but the light died quickly. For a moment he wondered if he really _ had _ lost all his power. Outside, he heard an almost imperceptible rumble. It was enough to draw a faint smile onto his face. 

“Good good, I hope you enjoy yourself here as much I’ll enjoy having you,” he’d forgotten all about the Grand Master. The man was stepping back a couple of paces, arms spread in proud display of the space they were residing in. Thor squinted his eyes to get a better look, but his eyes still couldn’t entirely focus on the details, and trying was giving him a headache. Nevertheless, he could make out enough details to paint a picture. 

This must be the Grand Master’s personal quarters. There was a huge circular bed in the middle, adorned with multicolored pillows and gauzy bead curtains. Creatures of all sorts paced the room, some on leashes, other less dangerous breeds free to roam. A few specimens hung in cages from the high domed ceiling. A humanoid with glittery blue skin and a flat, eyeless face prowled in tight circles on the other side of the room, wrists chained closely together, and one ankle tethered to the wall. It was a veritable zoo, and Thor was shackled tightly to the wall in his corner. A small snake-like creature with a long, scaled tail and smooth cat’s legs padded up to him, blinking triple-lidded eyes at him before licking his bare foot with an abrasive tongue. It seemed to like the taste of blood, and quickly lapped up anything that was smeared across his ankle. The sensation was not pleasant. 

“You’ll fit right in,” the Grand Master ducked backward for a moment, only to collect a glass from a tray by the bed and saunter back over. He knelt down and offered up the glass with a dark smile. “I do hope you’ll be comfortable here.” 

Thor looked down into the glass an immediately recognized the purple juice inside. His instincts screamed at him not to drink it, but rational thought reminded him that if he didn’t drink, he would die. The Witch’s Cure would weaken him, yes, but it wouldn’t kill him. So he drank what was given. That glass alone was enough to tip his already-weakened state back over the edge, and he let his eyes slide closed. 

Outside, the storm kept up. 

\-- 

Thor still had no concept of how fast time was moving, nor how long his periods of unconsciousness lasted. He drifted in and out a lot, as if his body was trying to wake up but couldn’t with the poison in his system. He didn’t have the energy to fight his restrains, or sometimes even open his eyes, but he could listen most of the time. The chatter of all these creatures gathered in one room was oddly soothing. He wasn’t scared, not at all, but the constant babble all around calmed him. Thor couldn’t tell if the creatures were happy, not when he could hardly get his eyelids apart. Perhaps they were well-cared for, as much as they could be trapped in this room. Is that what he was going to become, a pet? _ Not a very fun pet, _ he thought, managing the strength to be amused. He had little strength for anything else, so what did the Grand Master want? Just to look at him and gloat? It would seem that way. 

It was better than torture, better than being made to fight. _I am safe here._ Relatively, at least. He could rest. Steve would come, take him home. _Take me home._ Instinct urged him to open his hand, even though reason reminded him that Mjolnir wasn’t there anymore, nor the bond between it and his Captain. _Mjolnir is gone._ He tried to call it anyway, but of course nothing happened. He couldn’t even feel Steve on the other end of their connection. 

The Grand Master came in a few times, but Thor couldn’t tell if there was a pattern to it, or if the man’s visits were entirely random. He had no clue how fast time was passing, nor how long he had been here. Once again a glass of poison was landed to his lips, and he had no choice but to drink. He knew he needed the fluids. Even gods had to drink. 

“No-one will find you here. This is where all the cast-out objects of the universe end up. No-one wants you. But _ I _ do. I’ll take care of you. You’re safe here. I can love you like nobody else could. I won’t throw you away like they did.” A hand caressed his cheek, fingers dragging up from his jaw to his temple, and back down again. “You’re a beautiful creature. You belong right here with the rest of my collection. You will be treasured here.” 

Lies, all of it. He knew that. He hadn’t been cast out, he knew that too. _ I am not lost, and not unloved. _ The Grand Master could spew lies all he wanted, accompany them with tender touches, but it didn’t mean a thing. None of it was convincing. He’d tasted real love, and anything less was painfully unsubstantial. Nothing could replace Steve, and he would not be convinced otherwise. He would not be lied to. _ Steve is coming. Stay alive. _

_ I’m ready. Come save me, in your own time. _


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've got some drawing for a couple chapters coming up. But for now... y'all asked, y'all shall receive B)
> 
> Your comments give me life. Hope y'all are enjoying yourselves!

This was  not what he’d expected. The bi-frost hadn’t whisked them up to the rainbow bridge, and the golden turrets of the castle were nowhere to be seen. 

Instead, the tesseract took them to a cavern lit by candles, and full of people. Steve took in the space, alarmed.  _ Where’s Heimdall? The rainbow  _ _ bridge _ _ ? Is this even  _ _ Asgard _ _ ? _ It was. He recognized some of the outfits  these common folk were wearing. Where was this, then, the mountains? 

And Odin was no longer Odin. In a shimmer of green and gold, Loki took his place, calmly standing off to one side with the tesseract in-hand. The god tucked it away with a sweep of his hand and glanced around to make sure they were well-hidden in a little alcove of the area. Then he fixed the Captain with an even stare.

“You’re alive,” Steve blurted out first.

“How observant,” Loki replied evenly. “We really don’t have time for games, Captain. Is there anything else you wish to get off your chest before we begin?”

Yes, there was: like how, and why. Those things didn’t matter. “Where is this?”

“Somewhere hidden,” Loki explained. “The city has been attacked. No-where is safe.”

“What happened? What about the bi-frost?”  _ What the hell is going on? _

“What happened is rather a tale,” Loki shimmered, his form neatly masked by Odin’s once again. “We cannot use the bi-frost. We must be stealthy, and we cannot stay long. Come with me, and keep your mouth shut. You can do this?”

Yes, he could. Steve scowled but kept his lips firmly sealed. He’d expected a smirk, but he got plain worry instead. Even under his layer of disguise, the god of mischief was very clearly agitated. If that wasn’t cause for concern...

Loki strode through the ranks of his people as their king, and they parted for him, none-the-wiser. He walked to a small pile of rocks and climbed atop them for some height, holding up his staff for their attention. Steve followed and stayed close, looking out across the sea of Asgardians. They looked scared and confused, huddled in small groups for comfort but bravely awaiting their king’s words. They scanned Steve, too, curiously. It would appear none of them shared the real Odin’s distain for outsiders.

“My people,” Loki called. “I must depart in search of Thor, but I will return with him. You will be safe here. The battle is not yet lost. Be strong in my absence. Obey Heimdall as you would your king.”

Steve watched the crowd murmur good faiths, and wondered if that really was Loki under the mask. The people took their king’s reassurances and visibly lightened. It was by no means a rousing speech, but it was enough. He smiled to himself.

Loki didn’t bother explaining who this strange man at his side was dressed in red, white, and blue. Perhaps some of them recognized him, but with the helmet it was unlikely. Steve hadn’t mingled with the citizens much more than the party Thor had thrown for him when they’d first escaped  Sakaar . He doubted any of them recognized him. But they knew he was help, so as he stood by Loki as the man descended his perch, they gave him their words of good luck and gratitude.

At the other end of the hall, a pair of massive double doors ground open. In the crack of light appeared a face he almost didn’t recognize without his golden-horned helmet, leading a small handful of citizens into safety. The door slid shut with a dull boom. Loki held his ground and turned to face the man as he approached, waiting patiently.

“My king,” Heimdall sheathed his broad sword to his back and gave Loki a respectful nod. Did he know? From what Steve had heard of the Nine Realms’ tireless watcher, it seemed unlikely that he didn’t. “Hela’s mindless army grows closer.” Warm amber eyes cast Steve’s direction, and the Captain found himself receiving a respectful nod of his own. “Captain. It is good to see you.”

He hadn’t quite expected that. Steve smiled and offered a firm salute in return. “We’ll get him back.”

“I have no doubt of that,” Heimdall calmly replied.

“You still cannot see him?” Loki asked, a touch frantic.

“No. I have searched as far as my power permits, and I still cannot see nor hear him. He is beyond my reach,” the guardian’s stoic expression cracked with regret and worry of his own. “I will look after the people. Sif is here. We can protect them. If Hela finds us, we can hold her off.”

“We will return before you have to,” Loki replied, his own conviction shining through the skin he wore.

“Safe travels,” Heimdall gave a firm nod as the god of mischief produced the tesseract and prepared to take them someplace else.

_ We’ll find you, and take you home.  _

A cloud of blue opened up in thin air and snatched both of them away. Just like that, they were surrounded by galaxies and countless blinking stars. It was only for a moment. The air split open once again, and they were deposited on a grassy landscape covered in small huts and bordered with lush forest.

“Earth?” Steve frowned.

“Not earth.” Odin’s form melted away once again, and Loki stood beside him, regal and immaculate in appearance as always. Only his expression gave away the god’s unrest, breaking through the mask that he was anything other than suave and uncaring. “Vanaheim. Come. I will fill you in on the details.”

It made sense now why Loki had asked for only Steve. He followed obediently, desperate to know what had happened but restraining himself. To many questioned swirled around inside his brain to focus on just one. Loki had better be preparing the details.

They walked for a short distance, Loki’s keen eyes scanning the village quieted by dusk, the shadows long and concealing. He took them into the forest with confident strides. The god must have found what he wanted, because he stopped and sat on a fallen tree. “Odin is dead.”

Steve sat too, finding a spot on the dirt a few respectful feet from his former enemy. He folded his legs to give himself the time to formulate an answer. “What?”

There was more grief in Loki’s tone than he’d expected. He hadn’t expected  _ any, _ yet the god seemed genuinely saddened. “He is gone. And now our sister has broken free from her exile. His life force was all that held her back.”

“Sister? What-”

“It is just as much a surprise to us as to you,” Loki snapped. “We had no time to prepare. She destroyed Mjolnir and cast Thor into the abyss. I barely escaped. Now she wants to rule the nine realms, and anything else she can get her hands on. She needs only the bi-frost to accomplish that, and grows stronger every moment she spends on Asgardian soil. Is that enough of an explanation for you, Captain? Because it is all I have.”

Steve solemnly unclipped the chinstrap and slid off his helmet, setting it in the dirt. He had nothing to say. The two of them sat in silence, staring at the patch of dirt between them. Consolation seemed wrong and out of place. It could be taken as patronizing or demeaning to the proud god, so he kept sentiment to himself, as much as he genuinely wanted to give some form of reassurance or comfort.

“Does he know?” Steve spoke first, looking up at the god. “That you’re alive?”

“He is aware, yes.”

“He still dreams about you,” Steve leaned back on his hands with a frown. “He was distraught when he thought you were dead.”

“I know, I was there,” Loki growled and looked away, staring at his tightly-clasped hands. “As much as it gave me pleasure to know that he would miss me so badly, it had to be done. I could not live another moment in that cage. You saw what Odin had become. The chance came to me, so I took it, and took his place. The kingdom has been happier for it.”

Steve wasn’t sure how much Loki had done this for himself, and how much the god had done it for the better of his kingdom. He didn’t seem to care much for Asgard, but then, what he’d said to his people couldn’t have been entirely an act. The most convincing lies always held a grain of truth. He couldn’t find much in himself to be angry with the god, despite how much pain his death had caused Thor.

“Even if you didn’t really die, you did save our lives,” Steve held his gaze, and waited for it to be met. “More than once. You’re right, I never did properly thank you.”

“I didn’t do it for you,” Loki looked up, his eyes dark with  vengeance and anger, oddly vulnerable. “And you can thank me by getting my brother back. If I have to get you out of trouble one more time, I may just leave you. You’re more trouble than you’re worth.”

Steve smiled at that, really grinned. He wasn’t sure why. There wasn’t much  to be happy about.

“You’re perfect for each other,” Loki scoffed. “Idiots, the both of you.”

At least they could both agree on that.  _ Just a pair of big, blonde idiots trying to be happy.  _ Steve kept on smiling. “We’ll get him back.”

Loki snorted and stood up, turning swiftly on his heel. “There is no time to sit around. If you have the information you need, we must go. My brother could be anywhere, and I doubt he’s landed somewhere in the nine realms. We have a lot of ground to cover.”

“How are you planning to find him?” Steve stood and scooped up his helmet along the way. “We just... visit every planet in the universe until we find him?”

“If we must,” Loki replied, regaining his calm demeanor, but his voice was laced with determination and purpose. “That is why I brought you. Surely you didn’t think you were simply for companionship, Captain.”

“Mjolnir is gone,” Steve frowned, ignoring the jab. “I had a connection with Thor because of it, but it’s gone.”

“Yes, I am aware of your special bond,” Loki could have scoffed a lot harder than he had, could have mocked how pathetic such an idea sounded, how sentimental and stupid. But he didn’t. “But if there is a chance even the smallest thread of connection remains, it is worth looking. And... he would be happy to see you.”

The admission came softly, far gentler than Steve had ever heard the god speak. There was a hint of tenderness there, so human and raw.

It was quickly gone, replaced with that slightly- detached confidence of a man always in control, always ready with a plan. Steve had to say, he found that reassuring right now. He could use a plan. Loki was turning to regard him over his shoulder, one eyebrow raised a fraction. “Besides, Captain. We have worked well together in the past, I will admit. Perhaps I could tolerate you one more time for my brother’s sake. And perhaps for his sake, you could trust me one last time too.”

“I could do that,” Steve agreed faster than  he’d expected of himself. “But don’t go dying again.”

“Unlikely,” Loki did scoff this time. “I have everything I want.”

Steve smiled. Back in twenty-twelve, that would have worried him, but right now he wasn’t bothered at all.  Asgard had been doing just fine. Loki was still a trickster, but after all he’d done for both him and Thor, regardless of the god’s claims to his motives, he’d still put his life on the line when he didn’t have to. He hadn’t actually died for them back when  Malekith had attacked, but he’d still protected them and saved their lives. “Then let’s go.”

\--

Loki wasn’t much of a talker, so Steve didn’t try to force a conversation. He didn’t fancy annoying the god if he could help it. Instead, he spent his energy straining for that broken connection, hoping to find even the slightest wisp of it. What he’d do if he found it, he had no idea. What if he couldn’t make a strong enough connection? Without Mjolnir to bridge their thoughts, surely there was no way he could connect to Thor and get a clearly-worded answer about where his partner had landed. What if Thor wasn’t  _ able _ to respond, even if their connection could facilitate it?

Searching the Nine Realms seemed like a good place to start. Loki led the way, pulling a book out of thin air and opening it as he walked. From the crease he drew a strand of golden hair, holding it up to the light while he inspected the inscriptions on the weathered page. Steve  inavertedly found himself speeding up to fall in-step beside the god, peering curiously at the page. His experience with magic was limited, but those certainly looked like spells if he had to take a guess. Loki was skilled with magic, as Thor had told him.

“May I assist you, Captain?” Loki glanced his way.

“No, sorry,” Steve didn’t make any effort to fall back or look away though. “Agitated, I guess. And interested. Haven’t seen too much magic. Where’d you get the hair?”

“You must know how much my brother sheds,” Loki quirked an eyebrow, eyes focused on his page. He handed over the book. Steve quickly caught it and watched with interest as the god waved his hand and whispered some words. The tips of his fingers crackled briefly golden, and the hair glowed white.

Yeah, Steve  _ did _ know. He was always finding long golden strands on his clothes, in the sink and bathtub, and on pretty much any surface the prince touched. Thor’s hair was a little stronger than a human’s, but it was so thick and lush that he had plenty to spare. He shed like cat in summer. Steve didn’t mind, even if it meant sometimes waking up with a strand or two in his mouth, or finding it in his dinner.

The glow faded, and nothing more happened. Loki plucked the book from Steve’s hand and inspected the inscriptions intently. “Thor is not here,” he finally announced, shutting the book with the hair safely tucked inside. Without further warning, the tesseract appeared in his hand once again, and the two of them were sucked through the void.

\--

“You really think he’s still in the Nine Realms?” Steve resisted the urge to wrap his arms around himself as he walked along beside the god. The air wasn’t too cold, but the last time he’d been here, he’d been frigid with fever.  Svartalfheim wasn’t exactly a welcoming place, either. 

“Doubtful,” Loki admitted honestly, holding the hair out in front of him. “Still nothing, Captain?”

“You can call me Steve,” Steve shook his head. “No.” Nothing. He hadn’t expected to feel anything, though.

Loki raised an eyebrow and regarded him with mild amusement before focusing back on his book. “I’m not here to make friends,  _ Captain. _ "

“And why not?” Steve easily kept pace with the god when he tried to distance himself by a step or two. “You came looking for me. You’re doing a pretty good job of looking by yourself. You hardly need me. I don’t know anything about space, or magic, so-”

Loki stopped in his tracks and shut the book in one hand, drawing up close to the Captain with dark eyes. “I did not invite you on a  _ field trip, _ Captain,” he hissed. “I brought you along because, despite what you may think, I can ask for help if I need it. Even if I could find Thor alone, which I’m very sure I could, I may not be enough to get him out. That is not a risk I can take.”

Steve was unfazed. He stood his ground, meeting Loki’s gaze firmly. To his own surprise, his Captain’s voice came out. “Then we’d better get used to each other’s company,” he said calmly. “If we can’t get along, it’ll only hurt Thor.”

“You want to know why I don’t have any friends, Captain?” Loki snapped back. “Because they betrayed me. They cared only for Thor, and thought nothing of me. I was never as good, and never as liked, and when the first opportunity  arose they cast me aside like I was nothing.”

It was a familiar tale. Steve had been there himself, the lesser half of a duo. But he’d always had Bucky, and as much as Bucky was every bit his better, Bucky had never made him feel anything other than loved. What the rest of the world thought didn’t matter, so long as he had one person who believed in him. Thor had often spoken of how much he cared for and admired his brother, but clearly the message hadn’t gotten across all too clearly, and the prince wished he’d behaved differently. It had all come to this.

Loki hadn’t gotten the attention he needed, hadn’t gotten the approval every child deserved. So instead, he’d decided to become what everyone thought he was and embrace this new image. It must have felt freeing, to attack Earth as he had.

“You came after us when the portal took us to Sakaar,” Steve replied, determined. “If you really wanted to hurt Thor, you’d have left him there. You could have at least left me there or left me to die, but you didn’t.”

“Don’t think you know my motives, or anything about what I want,” Loki scoffed, disgusted. It was all defensive. The god was leaning back on his foot a little.

“You’re right, I don’t know what you want. But you’ve gone out of your way to protect us enough times that I can make a guess.”

Loki looked vulnerable and nervous all of a sudden, as if the motives about to be revealed were something murderous and vile. “You’d like to think I give a damn about you,  _ mortal, _ your life is insignificant-”

“Maybe you don’t, but you care about Thor,” Steve cut him off this time. “You said as much yourself. I know you want him to be happy, and you’re worried about him. But you didn’t have to bring me.”

“You’re very clever,  _ Captain, _ " the god sneered. “Did you figure that out all by yourself? For all his faults and mistakes, Thor is still my brother, and it will admit that his loss would cause me pain. And if you were to die, I would never hear the end of his moaning. The oaf is insufferable, but I would rather deal with him madly in love than mourning.”

“You don’t mind me as much as you’d like me to think,” Steve lifted his eyebrow.

“I thought you didn’t have an ego, God’s perfect soldier.”

“This isn’t about that.”

“Then what, you want to be friends?”

Steve shrugged. “I’m not asking for that. Just that we can talk a little, maybe. Get along. I’m trusting you, so maybe we could... be friendly, at least.”

“You want to make small-talk?” Loki snorted. “Adorable. You do remember I bested you in battle? I could do it again, and easily.”

Steve smirked. “I’d take you up on the offer if we had the time, but I think we should move on. I’m not getting anything, and neither are you by the looks of things.”

Loki’s wicked, knowing  grin was actually very amusing. “I accept your forfeit,” he produced the tesseract again. “Shall we continue,  _ Steve? _ ”

“We’d better,” Steve agreed. “And I accept your friendship.”

\--

Jotunheim was next, and neither of them were pleased. It was too cold for Steve’s liking, and though Loki was unbothered by the cold, he looked disturbed, checking every dark corner warily as he worked his spell.

Steve curled his hands into fists to protect his fingers and wrapped his arms around his chest, stretching out for his bond with Thor. Of course, there was nothing. “We’re not getting anywhere,” he muttered.

“We’ve hardly begun,” Loki glanced at him. “He is not in this realm either.” The hair was tucked back into the book.

“Your spell can’t look further?”

“I cannot scan the entire universe with it, no,” Loki replied tersely.

“We can’t just go from planet to planet hoping we find him,” Steve stopped in his tracks. “We don’t have the time.  _ Asgard _ doesn’t have time. Thor might not either.”

“And what do you suggest, then?” Loki closed his book and held it in front of him, turning to face the soldier. “I would very much like to hear your ideas. Space is not a path that you can simply follow from one planet to the other. You cannot plot a course and ask local villagers if anyone may have seen him pass by. Space expands endlessly in every direction, running with currents like one vast ocean, but full of portals and gateways that are not always predictable nor consistent. So what,  _ Captain, _ do you suggest?”

This was entirely out of his league. Steve was pretty smart, he was aware, but that was only on Earth, where the rules made sense. Here in space, he might as well be an idiot. It wouldn’t make a difference.

_ Problems are problems. I’m a problem-solver.  _ That’s what he’d done in the war, wasn’t it? Fix the unsolvable? Beat the unbeatable? How many impossible lines had he broken in the war with just a little bit of ingenuity? This was no different. This was a problem, and he could solve it.

“Currents?” Steve frowned. He’d definitely heard that word used to describe space before.  _ Sakaar _ _ .  _ His eyes widened. “Sakaar,” he breathed. “If you were to get swept up in the currents of space, that’s where you’d end up.”

Loki was staring at him intently. “You may very well be right.” They left Jotunheim behind as fast as they could.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your comments give me life, thank you as always :)

Sakaar was just as he remembered it. Steve hadn’t seen much beyond the window of his quarters, but it all looked familiar: huge gouges in a stormy sky dropping trash across the landscape, distant cities bustling with life and color visible even from here. He recognized the big red portal right away, the one they’d flown through during their escape, and the one that had nearly ripped Thor right out of their ship. He didn’t remember much after Thor’s victory against the Champion, but he remembered a harsh scarlet light glowing all around Thor as he dangled out the landing hatch. Steve shivered and looked away.

Actually,  Sakaar was a lot darker than he remembered, at least in patches. There wasn’t much blue sky visible. Small  cervices of bright blue fought their way through the choking black of an angry storm.

The whole scene was eerie. Steve was glad to have his shield at his back, providing a sense of safety.

Lightning cracked in the distance, and Steve watched explosions of blue light up the grey turmoil of the sky. It was beautiful, just as beautiful as all the storms he’d seen Thor whip up. There was something striking and vengeful about Thor’s storms that set them apart from any natural occurrence. Something very much present here. Steve’s heart shuddered, and it was not for any magic bonds. “He’s here,” he breathed, before Loki had even brought out his book and started weaving his spell.

It had been months. Steve just about forgot the god at his side and nearly ran right off toward the city on his own, but he didn’t, no matter how painfully difficult it was. The one thing he wanted more than anything else, his only selfish desire, was  _ right here. _

“Then we had better start looking,” Loki held up the strand of hair, and it was glowing brightly, the white light pulsing in thick ripples – Thor  _ was _ here. 

Steve was level-headed, but he was having a hard time keeping his cool as he and Loki started to walk, Steve scanning to his right, and Loki to the left. His hands were shaking, and the god looked just as perturbed.  _ That’s Thor’s lightning. That means he’s okay. He’s here, he’s alright. _ Alright enough to use his power, at least. That was reassuring. Thor was alive. Steve walked faster, picking out details as fast as his brain could process them. All he could see was trash, vision bombarded with a full spectrum of color, and the distant clatter of the sky spitting more of it out all around. How were they supposed to find Thor in all this?

They walked. Everything looked the same, from one pile of trash to the next. It was all disparaging and bleak, a place of abandon. A little something from every world was gathered here, a collection of macabre souvenirs collected from all corners of the universe. Somehow, it had all drifted to this one spot. It was poetic in a way, perhaps charming if the scenery weren’t so loudly screaming dystopia.

They found their first body over the next rise, flung backward with great force and speared on a protruding shard of debris. Steve slid down the hill to examine it. The body was well and truly pulverized, long-dead. Already he could spot another just a few feet away, crumbled against a third. A fourth and a fifth were visible just beyond that. Steve ran, and Loki followed.

A huge fight had errupted here. There were bodies littered everywhere, and no clear sides from the evidence present.

“Scavengers,” Loki explained quietly, kneeling beside a corpse. “This one has been dead for over a week.”

The stench of blood was still thick in the air, looming over the massive battlefield carpeted with the dead. Steve trotted over to a crashed lump of metal, examining the dead pilot still strapped into the burned remains of his small ship. There were pieces of charred metal all around – this thing has exploded. “One hell of a fight...” Steve murmured.

“Scavengers don’t fight among themselves like this,” Loki commented. “Not to this scale. There are hundreds dead, by my estimate. This was not in-fighting.”

“How do you know so much about this place?” Steve asked curiously, hopping down and continuing on through the trash in search of clues, fear making a violent come-back as he double-checked the carnage for Thor.

Loki followed, glancing left and right. “I spent some time in the Grand Master’s court while formulating my plan to free you. Scavengers roam all over this planet, bringing anyone who arrives to be appraised. Most are sent to the arena.”

“You think they got him?” Steve asked quietly. “Sent him back to the arena?”  _ Put him in a cell, made him fight?  _ Thor could handle himself, but Steve dreaded the idea of the prince being sent to fight whoever might have replaced the previous champion. They’d barely defeated the previous champion as a team, and they’d had Mjolnir.

“It is possible,” Loki agreed evenly. The god paused and knelt beside another body, placing his hand against the humanoid’s throat. “This one died more recently than the last. By a day or two at least.”

That meant the battle they were standing in the middle of had lasted days. Steve paled at the thought. He’d been in some tough fights of his own, but never had he been fighting non-stop for  _ days. _ These bodies were flung left and right, some killed simply with crushing force, others stabbed or sliced and left to bleed. It was gruesome.

“Steve.” Loki was pointing.

There, fluttering in the gentle breeze from the nearby storm, was a red cape. It was tied high to a pole, visibly torn even from here. Among all the ruin and desolation here, this was too purposeful to have simply happened. Steve put more power into his sprint than was needed, jumping nimbly over scattered protrusions and bunching all his power into his legs. His body shot off the ground and he nearly reached the top of the pole, easily climbing the rest of the way. There was dried blood all over the metal, crumbling off under his gloved hands as he scaled up and wrapped his fingers around ravaged red fabric.

Steve pulled free the knot and draped the cloth over his shoulder, jumping down to the ground and falling to one knee. Thor’s cape was a mess, covered in splotches of blood and burned through in places. Loki’s shadow fell over him, the god’s expression grim as he crouched over and the soldier fumbled the fabric in his hands.

They both looked up and made eye-contact. They shared one thing, and even if they hadn’t been able to put aside their differences, it would have been enough to forge an allegiance all on its own. As it stood, it served only to strengthen their agreement. Steve saw raw anger in Loki’s gaze, something pained and driven entirely by care for someone else.

Thunder rattled the debris around them, and they both looked up to watch patterns of light fracture the sky. Framed by the glow were buildings, tall and distant. Steve stood  up, the cloak clutched in his hand. It was too ruined to be worn again, but he couldn’t find it in himself to let go. He  _ knew _ it had been left for him, tied up as a sign. Nothing else made sense.  _ I found you. I’m coming. _

Loki was already pulling out the tesseract, yanking Steve closer and drawing them both into a portal, his darkened eyes screaming promises of vengeance his mouth could not convey. In seconds, the city was right in front of them, and they were plunging it. Loki made no attempt to disguise either of them, the crowds of multicolored aliens mingling without casting them a single glance. Among the chaos of Sakaar, neither the god nor the soldier were out of place, even as they marched through the giddy city brightness, untouched by its artificial warmth.

On another day, Steve might have stopped to admire this new world. He hadn’t gotten to see any of it during his time here. Today, he had no interest in the endless varieties of species or the melting pot of intergalactic cultures. The artist in him would have yearned for colored pencils and a perch to observe this city from. But even the artist bent to the soldier today, and the soldier had a mission.

The sky was much darker the deeper they pushed into the city, the flashes of blue much more violent. No-one seemed bothered. No-one knew that this was not just a storm, but a beacon. Steve would have sprinted all the way to the tallest skyscraper, the one cast in the most shadow, but it wouldn’t have made a difference: they had no plan.

Loki was formulating one, by the look in his eyes and the twitch of his cheek as his jaw clenched tightly. Frankly, Steve was in the same boat, riding the same tension, and restraining the same urge for blood. It was very unlike him, to want to make someone hurt  _ so _ badly. 

They were upon the tower now. “The Grand Master has him,” Loki growled low, his hands clenched into  fists. “The arena is beneath us. This place is where he spends his time indulging in pleasures. And there, he keeps his fighters.” Steve followed the god’s pointing finger to the structure right next to the one they were about to enter. He could see a few windows looking out over the city; one of those cells had been his for a time, and he knew there were more underground. He’d never once imagined having to come back here.

His first visit had nearly killed him.

But here was where this whole journey had begun. Without  Sakaar , without that little cell and only Thor for company, he wouldn’t have those rings sitting on his bedside table back home. He wouldn’t have made that first friend, and from that steadily learned to love the rest of his team like his family too. Maybe he’d have gotten there on his own, or with the help of someone else, or have gotten his time with Thor some other way, but those were all merely uncertainties. They weren’t reality. And reality had turned out pretty well.  Sakaar had given him Thor, and from that had come a family, a home, and a time he was happy to live in.

Sakaar would not take Thor from him.

“Do you have a plan?” Loki turned to face him.

“I figured yours would be better than mine,” Steve met his gaze.

“A wise discernment, yes,” Loki agreed, looking back up at the Grand Master’s playpen. “But I would be open to hearing your judgment.”

“Get us in, and I’ll update you,” the Captain confirmed. “When we last met, you asked me about the Avengers.”

Loki froze and turned to fix him with eyes narrowed in suspicion. “I did.”

“And... we’re going to fight again, together,” Steve held out his hand. “ Maybe today we can both fight as Avengers.”

Loki scoffed, exhaling sharply through his mouth and nose as he looked away. “I have no interest in your little team, Captain. Besides, I’m sure your friends would not approve.”

“I’m the Captain, I can invite who I want,” Steve shrugged. _Barton would put an arrow through your skull, right before putting one through mine. But they don’t have to know. It’s just for today._

“It’s a stupid name.” Loki brought his gaze back around. “And we will not be avenging anyone. Thor is alive. Consider changing your name to the Revengers, and perhaps I would consider it.”

“Revengers it is,” Steve smiled. Loki was right: no-one was going to be avenging anyone today.

“And I do not answer to you.”

“Very well,  _ Captain, _ what’s our play?” Was it just him, or was Loki enjoying this just a little? Steve had to admit he was kind of enjoying it too.

“We observe.” Their short moment of banter was over, seriousness of the situation sinking in fully as the god summoned his magic. In a blink and a shimmer of gold, Steve’s suit and pale, peachy skin were replaced with smooth green scales dressed in silky white cloth, the shield on his back a shell. Loki stood unchanged, having not revealed his form during his previous time spent here. Together, they walked in.

\--

Everything looked as he remembered it. Steve tried not to stare too intently at the people that passed and the walls that surrounded them, while keeping his eyes peeled for any sign of Thor. Everything was pristine and colorful, but the prince was absent.

“We should start in the arena and see if we can find him ourselves first,” Loki said quietly when there was some distance between them and everyone else wandering the hallways. There was plenty of bustle and laughter to mask their conversation, and everyone seemed a little drunk, uncaring of their surroundings. “If we cannot find him there, then I will seek out the Grand Master myself and gather the information from him. You stay nearby, and keep your eyes open.”

Loki was the better manipulator, Steve knew that. This stealth-op was far more to the god’s advantage than Steve’s. He found he didn’t mind following orders so much, even from the fallen prince. He nodded in confirmation. It was a good plan. If they could sneak Thor out without anyone being the wiser, that would be ideal. They didn’t have time for a fight, and no clue what state Thor would be in when they found him.

Loki knew his way around, and Steve set to memorizing their path. The serum easily filed all the information away, building upon the small map from the sparse sections of this place he’d passed through on his first visit.

The whole atmosphere was dripping with sultry, sickly sweet pleasure. Steve would be happy to leave as soon as he could. Even Loki seemed uncomfortable, though he was maintaining his cool very well, blending in with the variety of creatures swaying and prowling through the corridors in search of their next indulgence.

It was very unsettling to walk these halls that had once been his prison. As they descended beneath the privileged sectors and crossed over into the realm of those held captive, the bright lights and colors dulled, and the air tasted of blood and sweat. It was just as Steve remembered. He and Loki stayed close, alert. A couple of guards passed by, and both of them prepared for a fight, but there were none to be had; the guards continued on, giving them no more than a glance.

“Does this place have security cameras?” Steve asked. That was always a good place to start.

“ Unfortunately no,” Loki replied. “But word here travels fast, and no-one can keep their mouths shut.”

It was no surprise that in an isolated realm where money had no meaning, gossip would their form of currency. Money meant nothing to the indulgent, who had their every want brought to them on command, and the indulging had nothing to buy. But gossip was infinite, easily-acquirable, and a source of entertainment that made life seem like it could be worth more than this dark cage. 

There wasn’t a ray of hope down here, and Steve didn’t remember it being so bleak. He remembered Thor’s shining golden light at his side, a constant ray of optimism and perseverance. How quickly would his spirit have waned had he been trapped here by himself? It made Steve all the angrier that they were back, and that Thor  _ was _ trapped here somewhere, alone. They were passing by cells, and Steve glanced in each one though he couldn’t see much. He didn’t see Thor, either.

Loki led them to the viewing pen, where all the prisoners were kept and the arena was visible through thick bars. They were fixed, Steve noted, remembering that he’d destroyed them when he’d visited. In fact, the whole system was running just as he remembered, as if nothing has disrupted the flow of life here at all. It was disturbing, but there was one familiar thing he was pleased to see.

Korg was alive. The rock man stood with another small group of aliens, chatting with them as if this were a coffee shop, his cheerful voice carrying over the dull chatter surrounding them.

Steve jogged to the energy barrier, weaving his way between the wall of guards mingling around the area. Loki followed, coming to stand beside him, searching the crowd intently. “Do you see him?” he asked urgently.

“No, but I have an idea,” Steve turned to face the god with a knowing smile. “It might be time to adapt this plan of yours.”

“I’m listening.”

\--

The guards brought  Korg to them, disabling the barriers to the rock man’s room. All three of them piled in, and the barrier shut behind them.

“Return for us in ten minutes,” Loki ordered, and the guards took their leave.

The room wasn’t too small, decorated lovingly with random items collected over the course of what might have been decades.  Korg stood facing them, curious and unthreatened. “Can I help you?” he asked casually.

In a flash of gold, Steve’s disguise melted away, and he reached up to take off his helmet, regarding the creature with an easy smile. “ Korg . We met... a long time ago.” Time didn’t pass at the same rate here – how long had it been for  Korg ? “Do you rem-”

“Steve, you’re alive!” It took  Korg a second, but the big creature grinned widely with mild surprise. “I heard you’d escaped! Were you captured again?”

“No,” Steve shook his head, charmed. “But my friend was. Do you remember the man I was with? A little taller and bigger than me?”

“The Lord of Thunder!” Steve could see a small smirk on  Loki’s face from here. “How could I forget. Is he lost?”

“We think he’s here,” Steve confirmed. “We’re looking for him. Have you heard if he’s here?” He’d almost forgotten about the cape in his hand, but he held it up for his friend to take. Their friendly conversation suddenly became much more grim.

Even  Korg sobered, his easy-going demeanor melting away as he stared at the fabric in realization, rough hands surprisingly gentle with it. “Oh no,” he noted rather quietly. “Oh no.”

“What do you know?” Loki stepped forward, snapping demandingly. “Where is he?”

Korg was unfazed by the god’s tone, handing back the cape and pressing it tenderly into Steve’s hands. His dark eyes were genuinely worried, an expression Steve hadn’t seen the creature wear. “There is rumor that the Grand Master has a new pet,” he said in a hushed, apologetic tone, his chiseled brow upturned. “If the Lord of Thunder is here, the Grand Master would certainly want to get his hands on him. He was very angry after the two of you left and destroyed his champion.”

Steve squeezed the cape in his fists until he was sure his knuckles would split open.  _ The Grand Master’s pet.  _ Heaven only knew what that meant, but it didn’t sound good. Steve had  _ met _ the Grand Master, and gotten alarming vibes from him. The memory made his fists itch to hit something and his legs burn to carry him as fast as he could to Thor. His heart thudded so fast he thought he might pass out. He had  _ never _ felt so angry.

Loki was riding the same wave, but both of them held it together, for each other, for Thor. “Where does the Grand Master keep his... pets?” the god could barely stomach the word.

“In his room,”  Korg answered plainly. “But it’s heavily guarded. There are sensors everywhere-”

“That won’t be a problem.” Steve pulled the shield from his back and slid his arm through the straps, fixing  Korg with a determined stare. “We’ll get him out. But we’ll need a distraction. How about starting that revolution?”

Korg beamed.

\--

“I underestimated your capabilities for chaos,” Loki remarked as they sprinted through the corridors, the sound of explosions and blaster shots serenading their escape.

Steve gestured affirmatively with his head as he ran. “You should have seen me in the nineteen-forties. This isn’t the first time I’ve blown a bunker.”

“Your suit was no less ridiculous, I imagine,” Loki gave him the side-eye as they ran in-step, steaming past mildly-surprised and plenty-inebriated guests. Guards ran the other direction, hurrying to squash the revolution in full swing below.

“It grew on me,” Steve shrugged, holding his shield in front of him and demolishing a door with all his strength. It folded for him, and the pair ran through. “When you have the god of thunder for a boyfriend, you have to do your part.”

Loki actually laughed at that, snorting through his nose in commiseration. “He  _ is _ the god of flashiness.”

“I hear you can put on a show when you want to,” Steve replied, finding the banter was helping to keep his head clear. He couldn’t lose to anger and desperation, not now. Even with Captain America’s willpower, he was having a hard time fighting back all the rage that had only grown in strength since Korg had uttered that despicable word –  _ pet.  _ It made him  _ sick. _

“That I can,” Loki agreed with a proud, malevolent smile. “This was a good plan.”

Steve smiled and knocked down another set of sliding doors, aiming his attack at the seam and exploding them outward. It felt good, he would admit, to destroy this despicable hell hole. “What do we do when we get him out?”

“I have several ideas,” Loki’s expression lost its playful, boastful grin, dark and grim again. “Depending on how we find him.”

Steve scowled ahead, not pleased with the vibrant images painted by his imagination on that note. They were nearly there though, and soon to find out just how many of their fears were reality.

The Grand Master’s quarters were located high up the skyscraper. The pair took the elevator all the way up, standing in anxious agony as they waited and waited for the small box to get to the top. There was no more chatter, and nothing to say. Everything had already been exchanged that needed to be, anyway. God and soldier were resonating completely on the same level, united by their common goal.

The doors slid open, and the two-man team marched out.

“I had a feeling you would come.” The Grand Master was waiting for them, clad in his shimmering golden robes and draped in an aura of ethereal yet oddly neutral malevolence. It was disconcerting to face someone who just seemed bored, his only motive to be entertained.

The leader of this mad place was flanked by soldiers, armed and ready. They stood barricading the door behind, weapons raised.

“Good to see you again,” the Master appraised him top to bottom, immediately recognizing the man who had once fought in his arena. The one who had escaped. “I am a little surprised you’re alive, but it seems fate brought us together again. Or maybe it was true love. Who am I to take credit for something so magical?”

Steve pushed out his jaw and lifted his shield. Beside him, Loki tugged out his knives.

“You are no match for a god and a super-soldier,” Loki threatened. “You have something of mine. I suggest you move, or I will go through you. I cannot speak for my companion, but he appears just as willing. Would you stand in the way of  _ true love? _ ”

“For the hell of it, yes,” the Master flashed them a smile that was every bit charming as it was challenging.

That chilled Steve’s spine. This man was truly going to put himself between two brothers, two lovers, and not bat an eye. He was stupid or crazy, maybe both, but probably mostly the second. That was scarier.

Steve had had enough. There weren’t that many men. He’d fought more men, better trained men.

“I will get you through,” Loki shot him a glance, eyes alight with the fire of revenge. “You get through that door, and you get him out.”

Steve was already slipping his arm from the straps of his shield and taking the first steps toward uniting the two sides. He hurled the  vibranium disk with all his strength, bouncing it off two soldiers and downing them with a crunch of weak armor. Steve ran and caught his shield, jumping in mid-air and spinning a quick circle. Using the adding momentum, he flung it back into the cluster of enemies and killed another. His shield cut a deep gouge in the armor and imbedded itself into the wall behind. Steve didn’t slow down, even as the Grand Master drew a blaster from his robes and backed up behind his subordinates, aiming a shot.

A guard’s body crashed into the Master, knocking him over. Loki prowled closer. “Go, Captain, I will hold them off.”

It was a pathetic army, really. Loki could handle them. Steve yanked his shield from the wall and made the door in a couple of strides, skin prickling was anticipation.

The door was locked, but that was no issue. Steve smashed the edge of his shield into the seam to widen it, then snapped it to his back and shoved his fingers into the gap. He  grit his teeth and used all his strength to force the doors apart. They groaned and grated on the floor, but submitted. Steve slipped through, a few blaster shots bouncing harmlessly off his shield.

Before him lay a dark corridor, long and foreboding. That was fine, Steve could see well enough in the dark to navigate it. He kept his shield on his back and held his fists at the ready, jogging forward while minding his steps. An  _ Indiana Jones _ movie came to mind, and he half-expected long spikes to shoot out of the walls an impale him. They didn’t. In fact, the path was clear. He made it to end, and waiting for him was another door. It, too, submitted to his ruthless strength.

Behind the door was a sight he might never be able to process completely. Out of the darkness burst colors and light and sound, so much at once that he winced. This room was madness.

He walls were washed faintly pink. Cages and ribbons of gauzy fabric hung from the high ceiling. Birds unlike any he had seen on Earth screeched at him, rattling their cells and fanning their wings at the intruder. Something growled, and Steve turned his head to see a dog-like beast with short fur and curved horns yanking on the chain holding it to the wall. A humanoid with smooth, delicate grey skin sat cross-legged on the floor, picking over a fruit with blunt fingers. It was chained to the wall as well, linked by a thick cuff around one ankle. It looked up as Steve entered, regarding him with slow, curious blinks and slightly fearful eyes that glittered like white diamonds.

In the middle of the room was a bed, huge and circular, and covered in thick sheets and a kaleidoscope of pillows. Two alien women were sprawled on top, sheer fabric brushing against flawless violet skin and supple curves. They were eating grapes from a bowl, but promptly stopped to look up as Steve burst in.

Without missing a beat, they drew weapons from nowhere. Steve didn’t miss any beats either, raising his shield and closing the gap between them. There was no time for delicacy: a swift punch each was all it took to render them incapacitated. He took their guns, crushing the barrels one at a time in his fist and sliding them under the bed.

After months of separation, he was finally here. They were together. Steve just about dropped his shield, but managed to maintain his grip on it as he slid over the bed and landed on the other side, hurrying to the opposite wall and sinking to his knees. He hardly noticed the small cat-like creature weaving curiously around his ankles. The rest of the room faded into a blur.

There was one detail in this room, and that was Thor. All the anger that had burned inside him fizzled to nothing. It wouldn’t help.

“Thor...” Steve hoped for an answer, a reaction, or even a twitch as he reached up to clasp the prince’s bloody cheeks.  _ Oh my god. _

Thor was completely lax. If not for a weak but consistent pulse struggling under his jaw, he could have passed for dead. Thick restraints locked his wrists and neck to the wall, tight against his skin and firmly magnetized to the surface. The collar was the only thing keeping Thor upright, and his chin was flopped against it, fingers lightly curled.

He was caked in dirt and blood from head to toe. Nobody had made any effort to clean it off. But even under all the filth, Steve could make out cuts and burns and gouges. They were littered all over Thor’s torso, up his bare chest and across his arms, tearing into his pants. His feet were scraped and bruised. There was a small puddle of blood on the floor near his hip. Something had bled for some time, though it wasn’t immediately clear from where.

Someone had done a lazy cutting job; Thor’s long golden hair had been hacked off, short and uneven.  _ An easy fix.  _ That would take no time at all to trim up. A small consolation. “Wake up. Thor, wake up.” He wouldn’t cry, not even if his throat tightened and his eyes welled up. It didn’t look like the prince was about to wake up any time soon, but it was worth a try. He  _ had _ to try, with the slight chance Thor could hear him, even if he couldn’t answer. 

“Let’s get you out of here.” Steve gripped his shield straps and drew back his arm. He jammed the edge into the first restraint. It was strong, but not as strong as  vibranium . Two solid smacks had the whole thing breaking apart and Thor’s arm flopping freely forward. Steve caught it and laid it across the prince’s lap, shifting around to tackle the other wrist. “We found your cape. We followed the storm. Loki’s here too. It’s okay. I’ve got  you, we’ll get you out of here,” Thor’s other arm fell free and Steve straddled the prince’s thighs to get a better angle on that last restraint, careful not to lower any weight onto his damaged body.  _ Never _ had he imagined that Thor, the endless supply of energy that he was, could look so drained, so lifeless and hurt. He was completely inert as Steve carefully lined up the edge of his shield and placed a protective hand against his partner’s ear, trying to push his head a little to the side. The collar had no give.

But Steve had good aim. Two swift strikes, and the restraint fell away. Thor was free, slumping into Steve’s embrace. He spotted a small glint on the demigod’s neck and brushed his fingers against it, discovering an obedience disk there. He knew all too well that it wouldn’t submit to his prying fingers, but he tried anyway. “It’s okay. It’ll be okay,” Steve murmured, as much for himself as for Thor. He snapped his shield to his back and settled to the floor, drawing Thor into his lap and holding his partner’s slightly larger frame against his, wishing he’d been there to shield it when it mattered. “It’s okay. You’re okay.” He pressed a kiss into Thor’s forehead and held it there, waiting for the fight to be over and Loki to come get them.


	11. Chapter 11

Loki stalked in, a wild look fading from his eyes as he knelt down in front of Steve and reached for his brother with nothing but worry. “The guards are dead,” he said quietly, with a wisp of fading rage. The god pressed his hand to Thor’s forehead with tenderness. “The Grand Master slipped away. Come, we must find somewhere to hide. Can you carry him?”

Of course he could. Steve had carried heavier. He nodded mutely, lost for a moment before remembering where he was and what he had to do. He set his jaw and reached over his shoulder, plucking the shield from his back and handing it over. Loki hesitated before wrapping his fingers around the edge and tucking the disk under his arm.

“Where are we going?” Steve asked, pushing up on one knee and carefully lifting Thor’s weight over his shoulder. Thor was  _ heavy, _ even for a man his size, and completely limp. And he was  _ big. _ God, after all this time, he’d forgotten how huge his partner was.

“Somewhere safe,” Loki explained.

Steve sadly glanced around the room at the other occupants. It felt cruel to leave them here...

A moment later, a stampede of creatures burst out of the room and charged down the hallway, escaping into the tower. This would certainly give the Grand Master something to occupy himself with. While the collection fled, Loki pulled out the tesseract.

The portal kept them inside the tower, transporting them to a large room resembling a hotel suite in layout. Steve rose to his feet, keeping a firm grasp on Thor’s body as he looked around. “Where is this?”

“A place to lay low for a while,” Loki explained, pulling a knife out of his sleeve. The entrance door opened, and a tall, slender alien clad in pearl robes walked into his residence. With a flick of his wrist, Loki’s blade went flying, and the alien fell, its expression locked in confusion. Loki calmly walked over to shut the door and retrieve the knife, dragging the body to a closet and neatly pushing it inside. “Now we are safe. No-one will think to search the chambers of honored guests, and if they do, well,” the god's eyes flashed with something vicious. “We can handle it.”

It was a good plan. Where else would they go? Asgard? No, not yet. It wasn’t safe. Whereas here, as unfriendly as the environment was, it would provide the perfect sanctuary in its own pocket of time and space while they spent as long as was needed.

How long would that be? Loki’s urgency rivaled Steve’s, the god’s fluidity compromised as anguish clear in his eyes attacked his usual gracefulness. They could focus all their attention on the object of their mission, now. “Come,” the god beckoned, walking through the landing of the suite toward a doorway, setting the Captain’s shield on the floor.

Steve didn’t need to be told twice. He followed. The suite was just as colorful as the rest of the building, decorated with exotic jars and glassware. There were bead curtains just about everywhere, and little tables covered in food or drink littered around the living space. Steve spotted plenty of couches and lounge chairs covered in pillows, and didn’t want to imagine what sorts of things had gone on in here, or in the bedroom (which were likely to have happened on the couches, too). They walking into the spacious bedroom, occupied by a massive bed, a steaming bath sunken into the floor by the other wall. There was a doorway leading into a bathroom, well-lit and covered in mirrors, the shelves stacked with grooming supplies and bottles of product.

“Get him clean,” Loki ordered, disturbed eyes locked on his brother. “I will return shortly.”

“Where are you going?” Steve knelt by the deep pool and carefully lowered Thor onto the tiled edge.

“He’s been poisoned,” the god strode for the exit. “I’ll find what I can to help.” Loki’s form transformed into the former resident of the suite, and he was gone.

Everything was very quiet. Too quiet. Thor was barely breathing, his chest rising and falling almost unperceptively. It was frightening, but surely if he were dying, Loki would have said something. Steve bit his lip and wiped his eyes, hurrying into the bathroom. He took off his uniform top and undershirt as he went, throwing them carelessly aside. Everything here was the finest luxury; Steve found a cupboard full of soft towels and pulled them all into his arms. He examined the impossible array of soaps and gathered an armful of those too. The Captain set everything down by the poolside, yanking off his boots as he jogged back to the bathroom. There was plenty of grooming supplies here. Steve grabbed a pair of scissors and what looked a bit like shaving cream. He found a comb and razor, too, adding them to his pile. “I’ll get you cleaned up,” he murmured to himself. “You’ll be good as new. I’ll take care of you, and you’ll be fine.”

He should never have let Thor walk out that door alone.

Steve stripped, abandoning the rest of his uniform as quickly as he could get it off. He lined up his supplies and dipped his hand in the hot bathwater, glad to find it wasn’t scalding. He worked off Thor’s pants and folded them to one side regardless of how destroyed they were. They were horribly torn and scalded, unwearable, but he kept them. 

None of the product labels were in English, or any other Earth language, not that he’d expected them to be, but he made due. Pictures were enough, and soap was soap. Apparently alien body-wash wasn’t too different to the human equivalent. Just to be safe, Steve smeared all of the ones he’d picked on his own skin. Everything was harmless, and soon the smell of Thor’s blood was somewhat masked by crisp, fruity aromas. Whatever species of alien the previous tenant had been, apparently it had enjoyed similar fragrances to humans.

Steve draped a cloth over his shoulder and slid into the water, pulling Thor in with him. Dirt and blood immediately clouded the water, but it was whisked away in the current, gentle streams of bubbles buffeting their bodies. It felt good. Steve sat on the little ledge inside the bath and rested Thor beside him, draping an arm across his shoulders to keep the prince upright. He squirted soap into his cloth and frothed it, carefully swiping the soft fabric across Thor’s skin. Under all that dirt, it was horribly white. Thor was generally tan, a few shades darker than Steve. “God, what did they do to you...”

The battle field, the bodies, Loki’s discernment noticing the length of the fight that must have occurred.  _ Oh, god. _ The cape tied to the flagpole. Thor was  _ exhausted, _ drained of everything he had and more. It must have been him who had thrown all those bodies and crushed them with such force. He’d been fighting for  _ days,  _ until physically incapable of fighting anymore. Then what, the Grand Master had taken him as a trophy? Weakened him further with poisons?  _ What else did he do to you? _

Maybe nothing. Maybe there had been nothing that  _ needed _ doing. How many of these wounds scattered all over his body were from the fight out in the trash heap? Most of them, from the looks of it. Some of them were deep, and though not life- threatening , they didn’t look healed at all. Then again, as drained and poisoned as the demigod was, what chance did he have?

“You’re never leaving my sight again, you hear me?” Steve pushed the cloth up Thor’s solid chest, working around the burn mark there. It only took a few minutes for the prince to look a little more like himself, a little more alive rather than a freshly dug-up corpse. Steve balanced Thor’s weight in the water and took his hand, rubbing dirt from under his fingernails. He scrubbed the grooves in his palm clean with gentle strokes, working up his arm until it was spotless. The agitation, no matter how careful he was, tore at deeper cuts, leaking fresh blood into the water. He had to get in, had to get the long-dried mud out.  _ Loki had better find some supplies. Mostly an antidote. The quicker we get this poison out of you, the quicker you’ll heal. _

He wanted Thor to look at him, at least acknowledge that he could hear the Captain speaking to him, so Steve knew that he  _ would _ wake up. But he was glad the prince was unconscious for this. He was absolutely ruined with cuts and burns, all caused by a variety of weapons. The accumulated trauma alone probably would have killed a normal human, and if not that then infection would have done the job instead. This would certainly be enough to hurt, even for Thor who was the toughest person Steve had ever met.

This was simply too much, too many hits struck at once, with no time to recover. “You have time now. Rest as long as you need.” They would be safe and comfortable here.

Steve adjusted positions, swapping sides to clean Thor’s other arm. The wrapped an arm around the prince’s chest and leaned him forward, scrubbing his back and neck. Then he put down the cloth and lifted them both out of the bath. Thor was big, but not difficult to carry. It just didn’t  _ feel _ right, the prince entirely slumped in his grip, the grey under his eyes clearly visible now that his face was mostly clean. A freshly-irritated split that covered half his forehead leaked into his eyebrow. Steve quickly rolled out a towel with his foot and set Thor onto it, pressing a cloth into the open wound. There was no telling what state the Asgardian’s body was in, how well it would fight given how worn out it was. Steve knew for himself that as amazing and seemingly limitless the serum was, it could be overwhelmed.

Steve folded up a dry towel and rested it under Thor’s head, tucking another around the prince’s hips. He wet his cloth again and diligently scrubbed away the last of the dirt around his waist and legs. It was done. He sat back on his heels and stared down at Thor’s naked body, clean but leaking blood anew. Smooth skin stretched over perfect muscle he’d long since memorized was damaged and torn in so many places it was hard to look at. Steve pinched the bridge of his nose and braced himself with one hand on the cool tiled surface, regulating his breath. There wasn’t a hint of color in Thor’s bristled cheeks.

_ Loki had better be quick.  _ He had a feeling the god wouldn’t dawdle.

There was one more thing he could do. Steve folded a towel by Thor’s head and knelt on it, laying out a few more soaps and supplies. He squeezed shampoo into the prince’s hair and cradled his neck to lather it in, working his fingers through the chopped locks until it was evenly-spread. The creamy substance was staining pink. Steve reached into the bath and cupped water into hands, rinsing out all the soap. He dried Thor’s hair with a towel, carefully rubbing until it stood up in soft tufts. Then he grabbed the comb and scissors, and went to work.

Steve was by no means a stylist, but he had steady hands and natural artistic ability. A simple haircut couldn’t too hard. All he had to do was even it out, trim it down to a consistent length. It was a minute detail, hardly important, but for now it was all he could do. At least until Loki got back.  So he trimmed, careful of the gash in the back of Thor’s skull and the cut in his forehead. He combed the hair smooth and trimmed it down, leaving the locks slightly longer on top. He brought down Thor’s beard, which was starting to get a little longer than the prince usually preferred it.

Like magic, Thor looked more like himself, his hair neat and tidy. Steve had to say, he’d done a decent job. He smiled and rubbed his thumbs into Thor’s cheeks, already finding a little more warmth there than before. He nudged his supplies aside and swept all the hair into bath, the current sweeping it away. He dried Thor’s body, mopping up whatever blood had leaked out of his cuts and applying pressure to the deepest ones. They didn’t want to stop bleeding now that they were opened again, and not full of grit.

Loki was back, a couple flecks of blood on his fingers and a wild look fading from his eyes as he approached the bath. He held a black bag under his arm. At the sight of his brother, his steps faltered, as if unsure whether the prince looked better or worse. Though Thor was clean, it revealed the damage underneath without any mask or uncertainty. “Bring him to the bed,” the god spoke quietly. “I managed to find ingredients for the antidote.”

Steve straightened, nodding with relief. 

They worked in silence, focused and too innerved to make banter or casual comments. Loki pulled a table up to the vast bed and spread a sheet across it, flattening the pillows and laying out what he’d brought. Steve scooped Thor’s body off the floor and carried him over, laying him flat on the mattress. He didn’t ask how Loki had managed to find IV supplies, but it didn’t matter. There had to be an infirmary of some kind here, and a well-equipped one. He took Thor’s arm and turned it over in search of a good vein. The prince’s arms were still roped with muscle, and though his veins were shrunken with dehydration, they were still prominent enough that Steve didn’t have too much trouble setting the line in his forearm, away from any deeper cuts.

Loki had found a clay jug and was tracing his fingers around the outside, muttering to himself. Letters carved themselves into the surface with a warm golden glow, and the jug filled itself with steaming water. The smell of lavender and ginger and other herbs wafted through the room, very familiar.  _ Frigga’s tea. _ He smiled to himself, connecting the IV line to a bag of saline solution and starting the drip. Even Asgardians needed to drink, so the fluids couldn’t hurt.

The jug was left to boil while the spell settled. Loki set it down and approached, laying his hand across his brother’s forehead in a moment of solemn sorrow. “The Warriors Three are dead. Only Sif remains,” he whispered.

“What?” Steve nearly dropped the needle he was threading, staring at the god with widened eyes.

“Hela killed them on her arrival,” Loki dabbed Thor’s forehead with a folded compress, nothing but tender. He focused intently on the cut there. “They didn’t stand a chance.”

Steve knew Loki hadn’t exactly been close with Thor’s friends, maybe hadn’t even liked them, but even he seemed sad about the loss. For Thor’s sake, at least. Steve knelt to one  knee, his legs shaky. He hadn’t been close with the trio himself, but he’d  _ liked _ them. They were good people, and brave warriors. He swallowed and nodded weakly, making sure his hands were steady before daring to push the needle into Thor’s lackluster skin. Steve tied a stitch and dabbed up the welling blood. Things had really gone to hell... He stared at Thor’s slightly parted lips. “How long until he starts healing?”

“I have no idea,” Loki spat, squeezing the cloth in his hand and curling his lip. “The nightmares were draining him before Hela arrived. He had no time to rest after returning with Surtur’s crown. Even once the poison is flushed out of him, it’s impossible to say how long it will take before he’s rested.”

“But he’ll be okay.” How much did he really know about Thor’s physiology? It would appear precious little. He had no idea how much different the Asgardian’s body was to his own, and what it would take to break it.

“I’m not a doctor,” Loki growled. “I’m not even the same species. He and I are different enough that I cannot estimate when he may recover. All I know is that this will not kill him. But whether he needs a day or a week to recover, we’ll have to wait and see. For now, we must get that disk off him.”

Dread curdled Steve’s stomach even before the god drew one of his knives and started to clean it on a towel. The soldier licked his lips. The disk had to go, but without the specific controller, they had no way to de-activate it. And Thor was in no shape to short it out with his power. They would just have to cut it out. “You want to do it?” He wasn’t sure which he’d rather do, wield the knife or watch Loki do it.

“Hold his head,” the god instructed briskly, steeling himself for the task, placing a protective hand on his brother’s bandaged chest. He turned the blade in his hand in preparation, finding his grip. Steve shifted to leave his companion room, gently taking Thor’s head in his hands and turning it to the side. “Are you ready?” Loki looked over.

Steve nodded and swallowed, holding his grip as steady as possible. He doubted Thor would move on his own, either in his sleep or out of pain, but it wasn’t worth the risk. This would be delicate.  _ How deep do we have to go? He hardly needs anything else to worry about.  _ Nothing could be done. They couldn’t spend time hunting the entire court for the right remote. The Grand Master likely had it. And what if they were discovered here, or the activation range was longer than they thought?

Loki had incredibly steady hands. He wrapped a hand against the opposite side of his brother’s neck, cradling it with sure fingers. He’d set his jaw, eyes dark but determined as he brought the blade to skin. At the first drop of blood, Steve thought he might be sick, but he searched within himself for a place where this wouldn’t touch him, keeping his hands steady. He could be sick later, when Thor’s arteries weren’t so close to a blade. In this state, the blood loss might be enough to finish him off. Loki wasn’t enjoying himself as he pushed the blade into flesh and angled it under the disk, but he didn’t pull back, calmly cutting around the device as closely as possible without touching it in case a disturbance would set off a jolt. Both of them were hardly breathing.

Thor didn’t react at all, offering not even the slightest twitch. It was a small blessing that he was unaware of this delicate and painful procedure. Steve had to look away as Loki dug in the blade a little further, just enough to get under the disk and pry it free. The god’s work was immaculate, as immaculate as gouging out a chunk of flesh could be. It wasn’t that deep, but it  _ looked _ deep when Steve peered over. He quickly clamped his hands around Thor’s neck and applied as much pressure as he could without strangling the prince. The blood came freely, spilling readily from the sensitive area. Even shrunken, the nearby artery was dangerously close. Yes, Loki had done an  _ impeccable _ job.

Loki was pulling back, straightening and starting to let his fabricated clinical detachment dissolve. He clenched the disk in his fist and crushed it tightly. Steve had to admit, it was satisfying to watch the decimated device slip through Loki’s fingers. 

The god sheathed his blade and picked up some bandages off the table, setting them on the sheets within reach. He slipped his hand under Thor’s head and held it off the pillows so Steve could pull back his hands and wrap the wound. He wrapped the bandage carefully and pushed down the end, hoping it wouldn’t bleed through.  _ Not like we have the supplies to give you a transfusion. I don’t know if we even had your blood type in the tower. What even  _ is  _ your blood type? _

They finished up and pulled away the blood-flecked sheet, dressing Thor in a pair of soft silk pants scavenged from a drawer. They tucked him under warm blankets, happy to hide away some of the damage. Neither of them  were willing to leave. Steve sat on the edge of the bed and Loki brought in a chair, and they both just sat there in troubled silence, listening to Thor’s short huffs.

\--

Within a few hours of Loki’s antidote pushing through the IV line, some faint pink rose in Thor’s cheeks.

The tea was ready. Steve rested Thor’s head against his shoulder and took the cup Loki poured out. He set the rim to the prince’s lips and slowly tipped the liquid into his mouth. He’d expected it to just run down Thor’s throat, but the prince actually swallowed it, his throat leaping briefly. His tongue swiped slowly over his lips, and he turned his head a little into Steve’s neck. All it took was one shaky sigh and a slight furrow of his eyebrows, and he was breathing more deeply. 

Steve looked up in time to catch the relieved smile on Loki’s face. The god wiped it away in an instant, spinning on his heel and striding from the room without a word. The Captain smiled to himself and ran his hand through Thor’s soft, wild hair, pressing a kiss on top of his head and holding it firmly there.  _ You’ll be okay.  _ Asgard was under attack, Mjolnir was destroyed, and Thor was too tired to wake up and too weak to move, but they would handle this one thing at a time. Here in this little pocket of space, they had some time to spare. Maybe not much, but it would be enough.  _ You’ll get better, I know you will. No time at all. With Loki’s magic, you’ll be on your feet before you know it.  _ He was glad Loki was here. It was good to have someone here who was just as shaken as he was, someone who could share in his grief and validate him, even if they likely wouldn’t ever talk about it or admit their feelings out loud. It was good to have the help.

“I can’t wait to get home,” Steve murmured. He settled against the pillows and brought Thor with him, holding his partner’s head against his chest and dragging the warm blankets across both of them. He rubbed his fingers into Thor’s head, kissing it again. His hair smelled like pomegranate. “I missed you.” His voice cracked. “I thought you’d died, and I’d never see you again.  So you  gotta get better. You owe me for kisses.” Steve wiped his nose on his hand and rubbed at his eyes, determined not to give himself this moment. Not yet. Not while he had Thor’s weak body pressed tightly up against his own.  _ After all those times you strengthened me, you can be damn sure I’ll do the same for you. I’d do it anyway. I’d do anything. _

This was  _ their _ fight. They would fight it together, as they always should have from the beginning.

\--

Steve napped for a couple of hours, allowing himself some time to rest, but never drifting deeply enough that he wasn’t aware of Thor’s breathing against him. Finally, his stomach brought him fully awake. Carefully, he shifted from under Thor’s body and made sure he was propped up and comfortable, tucking him back under the blankets. He didn’t want to leave, but he had to. He  _ had _ to take care of himself. Besides, he was too hungry to ignore the need, and the food he found in the kitchen area looked too good. So he didn’t hold back and ate until he was full. 

Loki must have left, because he was nowhere to be found in the suite. Steve explored. He found cabinets of food and drink, probably special treats and liquor and delicacies, by the packaging. He left it alone and kept exploring. A few pieces of paper and a writing utensil were stashed away in a drawer. Steve happily swiped them. Not a minute later, he discovered a small device on a high shelf, stashed with decorative bowls and highly useless sculptures. It was round in shape, with a flat bottom, the size of a large marble. He tapped the surface curiously, and the orb split in half, projecting holographic symbols into the air above it.

Soft music drifted out of the tiny object. Steve smiled and swiped his fingers across the hologram, unable to read the language, but figuring out which symbols did what when he changed them. He gathered his paper, wandering back to the bedroom and setting the orb on the bedside table. The music was not from Earth, but he recognized similar genres. Steve settle on an orchestral channel, enchanted by the sounds of alien instruments playing a pleasing melody. The sound brightened the room, and he lowered the volume to an ambient level.

Steve folded one leg over the other and spread his paper out on the table, taking to it with his pencil. Without thinking, he let his hand take over. It was freeing and cathartic, to let all the stress of these past few months gather in the pencil and accumulate on the page. Before he knew it, he’d drawn their cell, where this had all started. The finer details of the structure didn’t matter, so he hadn’t added them. The scene was bright regardless of the fact that there was no light source. Thor was there, inviting him to dance, pulling him off the floor with a big smile and a happy blush in his cheeks. The muscles across his back were in torsion as he pulled Steve to his feet with perfect ease and grace. That cell wasn’t enough to dim Thor’s brightness. It wasn’t enough to destroy him.

Steve set down his pencil and leaned his cheek on his palm, observing the strokes of Thor’s chest which were coming more powerfully now. Not strong enough, but better. He looked more asleep than unconscious. Steve smiled.  _ I missed you. I just wanted you to give up your quest and come back to me, pick me up and carry me away.  _ "I have a surprise for you. I think you’ll like it.”  _ I left the rings at home. But I wouldn’t propose to you here, no  _ _ no _ _ , I can do better than that. It’d be kind of poetic, but so wrong. I can and will do better. I’ll blow your mind. _

Steve still had no idea how he was going to do this proposal. He’d had months to think about it, and had made zero progress. Ironically, he  _ knew _ that regardless of how extravagant or surprising or mundane he did it, Thor wouldn’t care. He wouldn’t care if Steve asked him in their bedroom while they were getting dressed for the day, or set up candles and wrote it in roses under aurora borealis.

The antidote drip was empty. Steve stood up and clamped it off, disconnecting the line and sliding it out. He pressed his hand into the hole until the bleeding stopped, counting the pulse he could feel under his grip. It was a little stronger, a little faster. Not by much, but better instead of worse. Steve would take that. He pushed Thor’s arm into his stomach and laced their fingers, leaning over for a kiss. Their lips met for the first time in months. “I love you,” he whispered, with nothing but strength.

\--

Loki was restless, but he vented it by leaving the suite for hours at a time, returning after completing whatever task he’d sought out to relieve his frustrations. Steve had a feeling that probably involved murder, but he wasn’t about to intervene. If the god was searching for the Grand Master, which was more than likely, let him.

Steve didn’t leave the room. There was nowhere to go, nothing he could interest himself with. He left on the music, letting it guide his thoughts into a place of comfort. There was no use in worrying. They’d done everything they could.

Thor had been asleep a whole day since they’d brought him back. He hadn’t moved, hadn’t twitched. He’d just slept. Loki was back, more supplies under his arm. The god brought it to the table and Steve stood up, respectfully taking his leave so the brothers could have a moment alone. 

What on Earth  were they supposed to do after this? Steve sat on the couch and clasped his hands between his knees, staring at the floor. There was a fight waiting for them on the other side of this hill they were climbing. Thor would heal and get better, and they would have to return to  Asgard . Hela would be there waiting for them, and she wasn’t about to go away any time soon. Steve had a feeling that if Loki, Heimdall, Sif, and the rest of the Asgardian warriors hadn’t been able to stop her, then it would not be an easy fight. Thor didn’t have Mjolnir either.

The hammer had served not as a power source, but a conductor. Steve knew that. He knew Thor could access his power without it. The storm that had guided them here was proof of that, and Steve had seen Thor use his lightning without Mjolnir on a few occasions. 

_ And what about me? What am I supposed to do against someone who Loki and the rest of  _ _ Asgard _ _ couldn’t beat? Maybe with Mjolnir I’d have a chance, but I’m still just a mortal.  _ What was a kid from Brooklyn supposed to do against the Goddess of Death?

Well, exactly what he’d done against the Red Skull. He sure as hell wasn’t watching from the sidelines.  _ This is exactly what Thor wanted to protect me from. Let’s hope this fight doesn’t cost either of us our lives.  _ It wouldn’t. It couldn’t. They’d come too far together, had too much journey left to travel.  _ I won’t lose this as well. _


	12. Chapter 12

“These are healing.” A warm voice he knew all too well, the source of his comfort for many months alone and trapped in a dream world.

“I will make some more tea. There is still some poison left.” Someone else, someone dear to him too. Footsteps receded, while another pair approached.

A weight settled beside him, bringing his awareness to the soft surface beneath him. It had been a long time since he’d felt anything at all, and even  then the surfaces had been rough and unwelcoming. This was a pleasant change. He was comfortable, even if his body was reduced to a useless weight he could barely feel. His head was full of sludge, but this was the most awake he’d felt in days. He knew that much. But was it two days, three days, ten days? He had no reference point.

The hands that touched him were gentle and large, cupping his cheeks while they rubbed his ears. The voice spoke to him again, but it had become muddied and distant again. The touch remained, and he was aware of it. Soft hands stroked his hair, long fingers combing through it rhythmically. He fell asleep to the sensation and a voice he knew was directed at him, but couldn't answer. That was fine: the speaker didn’t seem like he was waiting for a reply.

Maybe a minute had passed, maybe an hour, maybe another day. He felt too drained to have any sense of the passage of time, but aware enough to open his eyes this time. Thor cracked his eyelids apart, immediately blinded by lights that weren’t terribly bright, but too much for eyes that had stared only at the inside of his lids for a lengthy time. He shut them for a heartbeat or two before trying again.

The world was reduced to splotches of color plastered across the thin slit he could see through, blurred further by his eyelashes, and dancing in threes around his head. Thor wasn’t sure if he’d ever felt this weak and sick, but now that he was aware of himself, he knew he had to be very tired to barely manage opening his eyes a fraction of the way.

He was warm, too warm, a tightness in his chest making it difficult to breathe. It was a sensation he’d experienced  before, he knew it.  _ Poison.  _ He knew that had happened, and recently. But how...? By who, with what...? Those were answers he  _ knew _ the answers to, but the information wouldn’t load.

Where was he, exactly? And who was that by his side, lifting his arm? At least, he presumed it was his arm. It was hard to tell, given he could barely see, let alone move. Ah, it really was his arm – he felt some pressure as a pair of hands clasped it and started to wrap his wrist.

_ Now _ pain registered, pain he knew should have been there all along, but couldn’t recall why. The sensation of cool air on something open and raw was quickly removed as the hand wrapped up the opening and pushed his arm into his stomach. Dammit, he  _ knew _ those hands... This was important. It was vital that he remembered.

Unfortunate. He couldn’t, in this moment. It was too much. Thor gave up trying to get his brain to work, and instead tried to get his eyes open a little further, maybe blink them clear. He body screamed at him to close his eyes and go back to sleep, but it was important that he didn’t, that he made this person aware that he was  _ here. _ His lips were dry, and there was pressure on his throat when he tried to swallow and form words. But the person must have noticed, because the hands were in his hair again, more fervently than before.

“Hey, hey, you’re awake. God, you’re awake... Thor... can you hear me?” Yes, he could, he just wasn’t sure how to express it. He was so tired. “Hey, easy, it’s alright. Just me. Hang on, I’ll get you a drink.” The voice sounded so shaken.

_ No need to worry for me. Peace. I will be alright.  _ He’d always known he would. He’d had a goal, and it had been accomplished. It didn’t matter that he couldn’t remember what the goal was, he just knew he’d done it.

A strong arm fed under his shoulders and lifted him sitting, cradling his head. He knew that soft skin against his, knew that hand stroking his forehead. He could hear a strong heartbeat right by his ear. He was safe.

But sore.  _ All _ of him ached. Not badly, but in a way that led him to the conclusion that it should hurt a lot more if he had the strength to feel. The pain was distributed indiscriminately across his body. He was grateful that he didn’t have to move, that the arm holding him was so strong and the body he found himself resting against so solid and warm. A cup pressed to his lips, warm fluid tipping into his mouth. He knew that aroma, too, and the sensation the liquid brought as he swallowed it in small sips.  _ Tea. Mother’s.  _ It was good, and he felt a little more awake for it in moments. Thor blinked his eyes a little farther open.

A familiar face loomed over him, different but the same. The beard might be new, but he immediately recognized the shape of that full bottom lip pulled into a worried line, the slope of a nose, the curve of shapely upturned eyebrows, and of course the shining blue eyes full of spirit and light.

Steve. Now that was a face he hadn’t seen in months, and frankly the only face he  _ wanted  _ to see. That was all he needed. He fell asleep again, satisfied.

\--

Soft music he hadn’t noticed before was playing a pleasant melody to the left side of his head, close by. He listened to it for a while, enjoying the tune. The sound steadily brought him around, and he opened his eyes.

The world wasn’t exactly clear and sharp like it should be, but he could tell this was a room, and he was on his back in a bed. Those were enough details to make due with. 

Steve was here somewhere. Thor had definitely seen him earlier. Where was he? The room was empty save for the prince. He turned his head and winced at the tight pain in his neck as he did so, but he found what he was looking for. Steve  _ was _ there, sitting in a chair, his elbow resting on a table and his fist propping up his cheek. He was asleep, breathing deeply and evenly, his broad shoulders rising and falling with each breath that expanded his strong chest. He was dressed in his uniform pants and undershirt – were they home? No, this wasn’t their room in the tower, or medical. He was pretty sure it wasn’t a hospital, either, and it certainly wasn’t Asgard.

Thor was too foggy to think. The amount of effort it took to move his arm surprised him. He had  _ always _ had his strength. Right now, it felt like he had almost none. But he managed, even though it hurt, and gave Steve’s leg a nudge.  _ He’s real, at least.  _ For a moment he wondered if this was a dream, but his fingers brushed the familiar fabric of Steve’s uniform, and he knew that it wasn’t. Steve was  _ really _ here. He frowned and pinched the uniform with his fingers, giving it a couple of weak tugs, so desperate for touch he was trembling. Or maybe his unsteadiness had nothing to do with that...

_ Wake up.  _ Maybe Steve needed the rest. Maybe he was tired. He certainly  _ looked  _ tired, when Thor squinted to get a better look at the Captain’s face. Steve’s expression was troubled and weary, his forelock dangling in his eyes and a thick beard obscuring his jaw. Thor frowned and opened his dry mouth, but all he could get out was a cough and a low grown.  _ Odin’s beard... _

Steve stirred, blinking open his eyes and stretching. He yawned and rubbed his face, a red mark pressed into his cheek where his fist had been. The Captain stared down at him, and was instantly sharp and awake, his bright eyes locking onto Thor’s and widening slightly. He moved in a blur, pushing forward out of his chair. He grabbed Thor’s hand and returned it to his stomach, squeezing it tightly as his lips upturned in a sad smile. Tears glistened in his eyes, and he was trying very much to contain them. “Hey handsome. Fancy meeting you here. New haircut?”

Thor licked his own smiling lips and found his voice, though it was quiet and gravely. “I see you copied my beard.”

Steve chuckled and wiped his eyes before scrubbing a hand across his jaw, pink in the cheeks. “Yeah, I guess I did.”

“You look terrible,” Thor frowned. No, that wasn’t quite what he’d meant...  _ You look tired. The beard is fine. It just... _

Steve didn’t seem to mind though, laughing with slight confusion. “You’re one to talk.”

_ You’re right about that.  _ If he was too tired to move, he probably looked it.

“Here,” Steve straightened in a hurry, remembering himself. He seemed flustered and a little lost, though terribly relieved. “Loki made you some tea. I don’t know where he went... He’ll want to see you when he comes back. He’s been really worried, even if he won’t admit it. You scared the hell out of both of us.” The Captain set a steaming mug on the table and reached out.

Thor didn’t really process those words, nor what they implied. All he cared about was the Captain’s approach, which was aiming to help him sit up. He resisted, feeling uncharacteristically overwhelmed. His chest tightened and his eyes stared weakly in want, grabbing at Steve’s shirt with his fingers when he was close enough.

“What? What is it?” Steve changed trajectory and leaned over him, grabbing his face and searching his hazy eyes for the answer his mouth was struggling to convey.

_ That. That’s what. I stayed alive, you found me. I completed my goal. Just stay. Just hold me.  _ He’d wanted Steve’s arms around him for too long, tantalized by his dreams. And now Steve was so close, and he had to have it before anything else. He would have yanked the Captain into his grip if he could, would have explained plainly what he wanted alternatively, but he couldn’t get the words lined up properly, and everything was a jumble of thought.

But Steve figured it out, wiping Thor’s welling tears away with his thumbs and gently settling forward. Strong arms wrapped carefully around his aching body, lifting him slightly off the pillows and supporting all his weight. By the way Steve was shaking a little himself, Thor knew his Captain had wanted this just as much. 

“You’ve been out for almost three days,” Steve murmured into his ear, swallowing roughly. “You just starting coming around last night.  God I missed you...”

This was his fault. Thor couldn’t quite put the details together and follow the math that had led to his conclusion, but he knew that. He’d made a terrible mistake, and though it was resolved, it had caused Steve terrible grief. That pain was clear in his honest eyes.

“You found me,” Thor whispered into Steve’s shoulder. “I knew you would.”

“You’re damn right,” Steve squeezed him a little tighter. “Found your cape.”

_ My cape...  _ The clue he’d left, of course. Thor smiled proudly.

Steve finally pulled away, and Thor couldn’t hang on to him to make him stay there. But the Captain’s hands hardly left him, easily folding him sitting a little higher and pushing up the pillows behind his back. A mug was brought to his lips, Steve’s other hand on his shoulder. The fluid cleared up his throat and wet the inside of his mouth, the ingredients giving him the energy to at least keep his eyes open a bit longer. Steve put down the empty cup and pulled the blankets up, smoothing them across his chest with worrying hands.

“Where is this?” Thor frowned, turned his head to get a good look at the room. The motion tugged on something on his neck again, and Steve quickly grabbed his head and straightened it gently.

The Captain leaned over and pushed a kiss into his lips before kneeling on the floor. He rested a hand on top of Thor and laced their fingers, placing the other across Thor’s forehead and stroking back his shortened forelock. When had he gotten a haircut...? “Sakaar,” Steve answered quietly. “We figured we should keep you here for a little while, so you can rest. But we’re safe, don’t worry. Your brother has us covered. We can stay here as long as we need to.”

_ As long as it takes to get better. Better from what?  _ Thor could clearly see bandages on his arms, and could feel their tension on his head and neck, and other places on his blanketed body. “What happened?”

“You were poisoned,” Steve explained, keeping his cool though Thor could see anger buried beneath. “What else do you remember?”

He remembered leaving his cape behind, now that Steve had mentioned it. He’d been outside, tying it up high to serve as a beacon. He’d been fighting, fighting for such a long time, so long he’d lost count. “There was... a battle. It was lengthy. I do not recall how many days it lasted.” Thor sighed and shut his eyes for a moment. Steve squeezed his hand comfortingly.

“So that  _ was _ you...” the soldier sighed back, and when Thor opened his eyes again his Captain’s expression was both sad and impressed. “Thought so. Do you remember... The Grand Master had you, in his room.” The rage was back, mixed with disgust. Steve tried to hide it, tried to stay calm and relaxed. “Do you remember if he...  _ did _ anything to you?”

No, he didn’t. Frankly, Thor was certain he hadn’t been awake for much of his stay there. “I don’t believe he harmed me.” 

Steve seemed relieved by that, his shoulders sagging. He brought Thor’s hand to his mouth and kissed the knuckles, shutting his eyes for a moment to immerse himself in the contact. Thor found the strength to move his hand out of the Captain’s grip, and Steve let him, pulling back so the prince could brush his fingers along Steve’s bristled cheeks. He moved upward, pushing his badly shaking fingers through Steve’s forelock, pushing it out of his face and tucking it behind his ear. His hand started to fall away, and Steve caught it, bringing it back to his belly. “No. Just rest. The poison’s almost gone, but you still need the rest. Just... please. Take it easy. You know how long I spent  stitchin ’ you up?” The Captain was trying to lighten the mood, but his teasing smile was mired with worry.

Thor was suddenly very aware of every wound he’d sustained, likely from the massive battle out in the trash heap, though he could barely remember any of them being afflicted. He’d been fully entranced in the fight, caring for nothing other than continuing on as long as he could.  _ I survived. Steve found me.  _ He still couldn’t get over how relieving that was.

There was something else he’d been meaning to do, a second goal. He knew  _ exactly _ what it was, but the thought was walled away behind so much weariness that he couldn’t make it out. He could already feel himself slipping away, yearning for sleep and starting to switch off now that Steve had pointed out how badly he needed it.  _ No, not yet. There is something...  _ What  _ was _ it...? The frustration and fear must have made it to his expression, because Steve was straightening, pushing a grounding hand into his forehead. “Hey, what’s wrong? What is it?”

That was the problem: he didn’t  _ know _ what was wrong. But something definitely was. He had to find it. Maybe it was in this room somewhere.  _ It must be. Please let it still be here.  _ Desperation overrode common sense, spurring his limbs to at least try and push him up. He didn’t get far at all, Steve’s hands easily pushing him into the pillows, the overwhelming winner in their brief contest of strength.

“No. No, Thor, don’t. Please. Just tell me what’s wrong. Don’t move. Are you in pain? You want some water? Food? I can get you something to eat, you’re probably starving. Or... cold? There are more blankets. I'll get-”

“Pants.” Thor breathed, and Steve frowned at him, confused and rightly so. “Where are they?” Whatever he was wearing, they definitely weren’t his pants. The fabric was too loose and soft, he could feel that much as he shifted his leg under the heavy blankets pushing him into the mattress.

“Right over there,” Steve moved out of the way and pointed to a wall. “They’re filthy-”

“The pocket,” Thor rasped. “Please.”

Steve got up, pacing quickly to a shelf. He and the dark blob that were presumably his pants were too far away to make out the details, but it looked like the Captain was holding up his pants, checking the pockets. Thor licked his lips, fighting the panic elevating his heart rate and making it difficult to breathe. Steve finally answered. “Yeah, there’s something-”

“Good,” Thor sighed, letting his eyes fall shut. That was all he needed. It was safe, whatever it was – how could he have possibly forgotten what this important object  _ was! _ \- and he could rest. Steve was hurrying back, speaking to him with concern, trying to get him to stay awake just a little longer. He couldn’t. He was tired and hurting, and there was nowhere he needed to be. Steve was here, and his precious object in the pocket where he’d left it. He was safe. Everything was going to be fine.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No sex, just nakey and sexy. So uh, warning.
> 
> And don't worry, there will be more Loki moments. Promise.

He remembered everything.  Ragnarok , Hela, the battle in the trash heap, the Grand Master’s bedroom. Why was he here? There wasn’t any time to lie around.  Asgard was in danger.

It was morning, he knew that much. The light in the room was a little softer, but brightening, and he could see a window through the door to the bedroom, a patch of brightening sky just visible from this angle. A new day. This would be his fourth day in this bed, and he  _ still _ felt weak and weary. More awake than yesterday, certainly, but he could barely get his back off the pillows. And he was hurting. It was about as bad as he’d expect, and though nothing the god of thunder couldn’t handle, it was enough to prevent him from moving too much.

Steve walked in, and he looked rumpled.  _ He probably slept in that chair all night.  _ The Captain ran his fingers through his hair and walked to the bed, picking up the pace when he noticed Thor was awake. A smile livened up his face. “Hey. Sleep okay?”

_ I have done nothing but sleep.  _ “Mm hmm,” he agreed quietly.  _ We cannot stay here. Hela will destroy everything. She may have already murdered the remainder of my people, and yet I continue to lie here.  _ Steve would understand. He would make Steve understand. Steve was pouring out a mug of hot tea, but he put everything down as Thor shifted his arm and gave the Captain’s pants a tug.

“What is it?” Steve gave him all his attention, an encouraging smile on his bearded face.

Suddenly he couldn’t explain what he wanted. Thor grabbed a handful of  shirt , as if that connection would be enough to keep Steve from walking away. The Captain wouldn’t, he knew that, but he was desperate to get out everything he had to say. He wasn’t sure if the panic was because he couldn’t get his words lined up, or because of what he knew Hela was doing as they spoke. “ Asgard . We have to... Hela. She will kill them... I can’t-”

He didn’t make it far off the pillows before Steve was effectively pushing him back and holding him there, shaking his head. “No.  Asgard will be fine.”

“You don’t understand-”

“I  _ do, _ " Steve smiled reassuringly, easily detaching  Thor’s hand from his shirt and laying it across his stomach again. “I do, I promise. Loki told me everything.”

“Then-”

“Then nothing.” Steve leaned forward and kissed him, which effectively shut him up. The Captain pulled back, a hand on top of the prince’s forehead and another under chin, holding his head in place and kissing the bridge of his nose. “Sakaar, remember? Time works a little differently. We have time.”

Time to heal, time to rest. Nothing to worry about, at least not yet. He relaxed under Steve’s hands, giving up the fight even though it was difficult not to feel anxious for his people. Trust in the soldier won over. “How will we beat her...” he murmured shakily. “She destroyed Mjolnir.”

“I know,” Steve whispered softly back, stroking his forehead. “We’ll think of something, together. And Loki is here. He’s pretty resourceful. I don’t think she’d stand a chance against the three of us. Might be a tougher fight than we’re used to, but we’ll get it done.”

“I stopped Ragnarok. It was supposed to be over,” Thor heard how desperate and frustrated his own voice sounded. Was that how he really felt? “I was supposed to come back...”

“We  _ will _ go back, after this,” Steve soothed. “Just one more fight. Then I get to have you, and we can do whatever we want.”

He had promised that, Thor remembered. He wanted it. He wanted Steve to take care of him and make him feel like nothing else in the world mattered. He wanted to live for his next morning waking up beside his Captain, instead of for the next fight. 

“I am sorry,” Thor murmured, his eyes blurring with tears. Steve was upon him, pulling him into an embrace as if he weighed nothing at all. It was a good feeling. Of all the times he’d happily scooped Steve right off his feet (because to him, the soldier really didn’t weigh a thing), he hadn’t given much thought to the fact that Steve could basically do the same. Sure, Thor was many times stronger, but Steve was still  _ strong. _ His powerful grip was easily picking his upper half off the pillows and pressing him tightly into a warm hug.

“For what? Leavin’ me on the rooftop?” Steve kissed the top of his head, rubbing a hand up and down his back. His tone was teasing and soft. Thor didn’t say anything, because the soldier was right. “I’d have rather been there to help, and I missed you and worried about you, but in the end, maybe you’d have been right. Maybe Hela would have killed me, or we’d have both ended up on Sakaar. Then who would have come to rescue you, huh?”

“I should have-”

“It all worked out.” Steve must have been able to feel the worry in his body through his hands. “It all worked out. We’re both here. It’s not worth worrying about. You can’t change it.”

“I am still sorry,” Thor mumbled into Steve’s shoulder. “I missed you very much.”

Steve squeezed him, a taste of the soldier’s own desperation bleeding through the gesture. “I love you.”

Thor smiled, “I love you too.” They hung there in the sentiment. It had encouraged them through bad odds before.

“Maybe you should have a bath,” Steve broke away and chuckled. “You’re really sweaty.”

So he was. He could feel his pants sticking to his legs. “Perhaps,” he agreed. It would be good to get up, even if knew he wouldn’t be able to walk there on his own. As it was, he was completely at the mercy of Steve’s hands. The soldier propped him a little higher and pulled the blankets back up, reaching for the tea.

“Feel any better?” Steve put the mug to his lips, and he didn’t bother trying to hold it himself.

“A little,” he took a sip. Yes, this was mother’s tea.  _ Loki. _ Where  _ was _ his brother? It would be good to see him. Thor frowned and had another mouthful of tea, swallowing roughly. His neck was unbelievably sore, especially now that he was completely awake and aware. It hurt to twist his head badly enough to deter him from trying. Otherwise, he’d have scanned the room. “Where is Loki?”

Steve shrugged apologetically. “He’s been around. He came and sat with you for a while last night, after you fell asleep. He left a few minutes ago. I don’t know what he does out there. He’s worried.”

Thor smiled at that, pleased. Loki had come to save him, again.  _ You can no longer fool me, brother. I know that you care for me.  _

“Hungry?” the Captain asked. Yes, he was.  _ Really _ hungry. He nodded once. Steve smiled. “Okay, I’ll be right back. Don’t move.”

He would not. Thor held perfectly still (not that it took any effort), and waited patiently for his Captain to return.  _ Perhaps I will feel better with something to eat.  _ How long had it been since he’d eaten? It must have been right before his fight with Surtur. He hadn’t had time to stop for a meal since then, having slipped away with Loki to find their father. Then Hela had arrived and tossed him onto  Sakaar , and he certainly hadn’t eaten during the many days he’d spent battling scavengers. The Grand Master probably hadn’t fed him either. It was a good thing Asgardians were a hardy people. 

But even the god of thunder had limits. He’d reached his, and it would take time to crawl back up and stand tall and strong like before. That was fine. Steve was here. He wouldn’t have it any other way.

Steve slipped back into the  room, a plate laden with food in his hands. He sat in the chair and put the plate on the table, picking up a piece of bread. “Millions of light years away, and aliens still have bread,” the Captain chuckled and pulled off a piece, pushing it between Thor’s lips.

Thor snorted and swallowed. “I’m an alien, and you've had bread on  Asgard .”

“That’s true,” Steve agreed. “I guess... I guess it’s just reassuring to know that even so far away from Earth, everybody wants the same things. Love, power, bread...”

“This is too much for my tired brain today,” Thor whined. “Please, Captain.”

“Okay,” Steve laughed, and though those worried lines in his face were still prominent, he looked happy and lively. It was enough to make the prince himself feel a bit more awake. “But only because you’re sick, and I love you.”

They were happy here, in this little bubble. It wouldn’t last, but for now it was good. Thor ate quietly, and Steve fed him, telling him about Earth and how their friends had fared in the prince’s absence. He spoke of Bucky and his improvements. He talked about Tony, and how breaking the news about his parents had gone so much better than he’d imagined. He talked about worried he’d been, for Thor and Bucky, and how much of a relief it was when Sam had started befriending the assassin. Steve talked, and loosened as he did so. Thor listened, letting himself live in the Captain’s world for a few minutes, glad just to hear his voice. Steve seemed to find it just as relaxing, unwinding a little bit with each admission. He’d needed this. Thor gave it.

“Everybody was worried about you, not just me,” Steve explained, feeding Thor another segment of alien fruit before having some for himself. He started peeling another. “They’ll be really happy to have you back.”

“And I will be glad to be back,” Thor beamed. He couldn’t wait to take up his bed in the tower, with Steve. He’d missed video games and card games and team nights watching movies and eating lots of food, together.

\--

Loki came back, peering his head around the door just as Steve was swiping crumbs onto the plate and going to get more. Thor made eye contact with his brother and watched his expression try to twist with unbridled relief.

Neither of them quite knew what to say. Steve calmly walked out of the room, giving the god of mischief a daring nudge. Loki didn’t even react, stumbling forward and finally giving in to his desires. He let his emotions show, and to Thor surprise reached out for a hug. It was a big hug, too, warm and strong and grieved.

“You are very stupid, my brother,” Loki murmured.

Thor smiled brightly and weakly patted his brother’s arm. “You were always the clever one.”

“And you the stubborn one,” Loki growled.

“You can be quite stubborn yourself,” Thor countered. “You continue to fight away death to save me from it.”

“If you weren’t so stupid, perhaps you wouldn’t need saving,” Loki muttered, pulling back self-consciously and snorting. He was trying to look annoyed, but it wasn’t doing a thing to hide how happy he was.

“That’s why I have a clever brother,” Thor wasn’t letting this go. This was something he’d wanted for a long time, to have the Loki back who used to play with him, who had grown up with him, and loved him. At the sight of how truly worried Loki was, though, he frowned a little, obediently guilty. “I am sorry to have worried you.”

“I wasn’t worried,” Loki crossed his arms over his chest and sat purposefully in the chair.

“Uh huh,” the prince smiled knowingly, and pleasingly, his brother scowled at him.

“One of these days I will just let you die,” his brother promised darkly.

“I believe you,” Thor grinned, lifting his hand.  _ Yes, yes, of course. I believe you entirely.  _

“And your Captain,” Loki leaned back and folded one leg over the other. “He is insufferable. I do not like him.”

“So of course you brought him.”

Loki looked away, not hiding himself as well as usual. Usually, Thor had an impossibly hard time reading his brother, even after fifteen-hundred years, but today the god of mischief was strikingly easy to read. That alone was telling.

“Thank you for caring for me,” Thor smiled, glancing at the clay jug on the table inscribed with familiar runes.

And Loki stopped, setting both feet on the ground, opening his mouth to say something but changing course and loosening his posture, giving up with a sigh. “You’re welcome.”

It was the beginning of a new era.

Loki stayed. He read a book, and Thor dozed, feeling a little more like himself and less like he’d been pulverized by the Destroyer. He woke up to find Loki still in the chair, and Steve on his other side, sat cross-legged on the bed. Together, they pulled away the pillows and lowered him flat, folding back the blankets. Steve rolled up his sleeves and started to unwrap Thor’s nearer arm.

He was littered with marks of all kinds, aged but still healing. Thor couldn’t remember getting any of them, and he knew he had pushed them from his mind in order to fight longer and harder. He watched Steve cut stitches out of his arm, slicing the threat with a knife and pulling them out one by one with his fingers.

“You’re healing a lot faster,” Steve commented, giving him a joyful smile. “I think they’ll be gone in another day or two.”

They shouldn’t have lasted this long to begin with. They should have taken a day at most, given that they were only normal, mortal weapons which had afflicted them. Thor wondered just how much his premonitions had drained him. The process had been gradual and stretched out over months, so he was certain they had done more damage than he had perceived.

There were a few tender scorch marks still lingering on his chest and shoulder, and a handful of deeper cuts that could use another day before taking out the stitches. Steve’s hands were careful around them, wiping in creams that Loki must have salvaged from somewhere, or perhaps made himself. 

His brother’s hands clamped around his head suddenly, holding it still and a little off the pillow so Steve could unwrap his neck. The Captain glanced over at the confusion in his eyes. This one felt  more fresh , more painful.

“Obedience disk,” Steve winced apologetically. “Had to cut it out.”

Ah.  _ Thank the  _ _ Allfather _ _ I slept through that.  _ Thor was tough, he knew that, but that would have been a touch unpleasant, and he was glad to have missed it.

Steve wrapped up his neck again, and Loki set down his head, pushing the bandage off of it so the Captain could cut out the stitches in his forehead. The two of them were working in silence, passing supplies back and forth, fairly well in sync. Thor smiled and closed his eyes.  _ I knew the two of you would make good friends given the right opportunity. I suppose that  _ _ opportunity _ _ would be me.  _ He would take credit for that happily. It would make him feel a little less guilty about causing them so much grief.

“You want that bath?” Steve asked. Thor opened his eyes, and Loki was gone, leaving just Steve behind. His Captain was taking off his shirt and working off his uniform pants.

“Yes please,” Thor agreed eagerly. 

Steve pushed him sitting and helped him turn his body around. Then he wedged himself between Thor’s thighs and leaned over with open arms. “Want me to carry you?”

The offer was enough of a surprise that he almost balked. But that wasn’t an appropriate response at all, because  _ of course _ Steve was capable of lifting him. “H-w- you can?” It was still the best he could manage.

“I’ve carried heavier things than you,” Steve chuckled, bending his knees. “Come on.”

He hadn’t been carried since he was a child. If Steve hadn’t taken the prince’s arms one by one and wrapped them around his neck, Thor wasn’t sure if he’d have known what to do. This felt good, exactly where he was, so he leaned forward into the embrace, content to just sit here and enjoy it for a moment. Steve’s bare back was just as smooth as the rest of him, his heart beating in steady thrums through his chest. Thor laid his cheek against it and leaned his whole weight forward. He still felt weak, and supporting his own weight was difficult, so he gave in just to be as close as possible to Steve.

The soldier squeezed back. “Thor? Are you okay?”

Yes, he was. Everything was fine. Thor buried his face into Steve’s neck and gave a deep sigh. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

“Yeah?” Steve hugged him tighter, placed a hand on the back of his head. “Me too.” The Captain pulled back, cupping Thor’s face with both hands and tracing his eyebrows reverently. “When we get back, we  gotta talk. I have something for you.”

“Oh?” Thor smirked. “I am intrigued.”

“Good,” Steve smiled. His expression melted through with concern and relief. “You look so much better...”

“Do not look at me like that,” Thor smiled back and shifted his hands, clasping the back of Steve’s head and pulling him down. It wasn’t as strong as it could have been, but Steve let himself be brought down. “I’ve got you to take care of me. How could I not get better?”

“You’re pathetic,” Steve blinked his eyes clear and wrapped a hand around the prince’s back to keep him upright, brushing their noses.

“You made me into this,” Thor opened his mouth and pushed it against Steve’s. He felt more powerful already, just by Steve’s healthy warmth against him and in his mouth.

“Okay, I’ll take credit for that,” Steve accepted it with a grin and closed eyes, going in for more. 

Thor wanted  _ more, _ but he wasn’t in any shape for whatever it was his body screamed for. He knew  _ exactly _ what he wanted, but he wasn’t in any shape for it. Steve got a familiar glint in his eyes, though he clearly had no clue what he was after, aimlessly roving his hands with  desire but no direction.  _ Hopeless, _ Thor thought to himself, charmed and proud; he had made Steve into this, taken someone so new to love and opened up a whole new side to the Captain. He knew his first kiss with Steve hadn’t been the Captain’s very first, but he did know that this was the most Steve had ever gotten out of a relationship. Steve had talked about it, explained that though he had loved Peggy, they’d barely known each other. Their love had been little touches and glances, and kisses shared when they could spare a moment or two in private. She had seen him for who he was, without the mask and the serum and into what really mattered. He had admired her ferocity, her kind heart, and her unstoppable spirit.

But they hadn’t had  _ this, _ something which had grown from nothing and come to a place where they wanted to keep going, but weren’t sure how. That was fine, Thor could wait. He was in no rush, but he would do his best to help Steve find what he wanted, and then give it to him. That was all he  wanted, all he’d wanted for a long time.

“Come on, big guy,” Steve changed his grip, running his hand down Thor’s thighs one at a time, drawing the prince’s legs around his waist. “You’ll feel better, I promise. This place is nicer than Tony’s. The tub has better jets.”

“Do not tell him that,” Thor chuckled, wrapping his arms back around Steve’s neck and managing to squeeze his legs. Steve pushed his hands under his rear and lifted him right off the bed. It was a bit of a surprise – Thor knew how large he was, just that little bit larger than Steve. But it had hardly any bearing on the arrangement. Steve toted him as easily as backpack.

“You are a lot heavier than you look,” the Captain grunted, but Thor could tell by the ease at which they were moving, that he was putting on an act.

“I did warn you.”

Steve laughed and walked right up to the bath, stepping carefully over the edge and into the water. He stepped down the ledge and eased Thor into the hot water, pushing him onto the seat. “You want soap?”

“Only if you will scrub me with it.”

Steve lifted his eyebrow and blushed, taking off his underwear and throwing it to the side. He grabbed a bottle of soap and cloth from the edge, wading back over. Thor slipped off his borrowed pants and left them on the edge, finding it a lot easier to hold himself up when the water was helping. Steve was right, it  _ did _ feel good, waking up his joints and his brain and soaking away his deeper aches. The water stung his exposed cuts, but not badly.

Steve sat beside him and draped an arm across his shoulders, squirting soap into the cloth and lathering it before pushing it into Thor’s chest. It smelled good, and the sensation was pleasing. Steve scrubbed, working soothing circles into his skin while holding him upright. The Captain gently turned him around and did his back while Thor leaned on the edge of the tile, propping himself up with an arm.

“Don’t fall asleep,” Steve teased.

“I must poison myself more often,” Thor chuckled. This felt way too good.

“Don't have to poison yourself if this is what you want,” Steve laughed. “Could have just said so. We can do this whenever you want when we get home. So long as you do me sometimes.”

He liked the sound of that very much. 

They spent a long time in the bath, until Thor couldn’t keep himself from tipping forward or back. Steve helped him out, rolling out a towel and helping him dry off before drying himself and bringing over some fresh pants. Thor was almost asleep before Steve was picking him up off the ground and carrying him like before. He was out by the time he reached the bed, a contented smile on his face.


	14. Chapter 14

“On three?”

Thor nodded.

“Okay. One, two, three.” Steve lifted the prince standing, his partner’s arm draped across his shoulders. “Nice and slow.”

They took it  _ very  _ slow; Thor hadn’t been on his feet since his battle in the trash heap, and he looked it. Of course, it didn’t take him very long to get his feet under him and settle his weight, and Steve shouldn’t have been surprised. He smiled and kept his grip, guiding their path out of the room and into the living space. Thor was limping, badly, his legs and the rest of his body taking some time to adjust, but he was doing well, breathing evenly and smiling brightly. He didn’t seem off-put at all, weak and sore, but taking it all in stride. He didn’t try to pull away or go any faster than Steve let him, content to drop as much weight as he needed onto his Captain.

Steve put him on the couch and brought him a blanket, wrapping it around his shoulders and kissing the top of his head before going off to find Loki’s tea. The god was out again, doing whatever it was he did around this place. And this was the last of the second batch of tea. The medicine had proved extremely helpful, but Thor shouldn’t need any more than this. Steve poured out the last of it into a mug and walked back with it and breakfast, sitting down beside his partner. Thor was a little flushed, but he held the cup in a stable grip and sipped the fluid contentedly.

Steve tried not to fret and hover, but he couldn’t much help it. He sat down and pressed himself tightly against the demigod’s huge frame, setting the food in his lap and rubbed a protective hand up and down Thor’s back. “How you feelin’?” 

Both of them knew there was no rush, but the faster they got out of here and back to Asgard, the happier they would be. Not that either them weren’t enjoying this small break spent together after so long apart, but there was work to do. And neither of them liked to linger when there was work. Thor’s answer contained that anxiety in its tone. “Better.”

“Good, you look better.”  _ Miles _ better, and improving more rapidly with each day that passed.

They ate breakfast and tried to make casual conversation to ease the mounting pressure of responsibility. It didn’t work, but they enjoyed each other’s company all the same. Both of them had plenty to talk about. 

Loki came back a couple hours later, some clothes and armor under his arm. He nearly dropped them when he saw his brother sat up on the couch. The god must have given up trying to hide how he truly felt, because he hurriedly set down his bundle and strode over to inspect Thor. “Brother.” It was the best he could come up with. “You look...”

“You learned mother’s magic well,” Thor smiled brightly and tapped the mug in his hand. “But I think yours is better. More potent, and the flavor is more enjoyable.”

Loki straightened with pride, lifting his chin a little. “You hardly needed it. Your tenacity alone would have gotten you through.”

“I have no doubt of that,” Thor beamed widely, pushing his cheeks into his eyes. “But I am certain I’d have spent much longer recovering without it.”

That went without saying. This time, Loki took the complement and softened, reaching down to give his brother a hug. “I’m glad you’re well,” he said quietly, and Steve looked away to hide his smile. Thor had long expressed that he wished he and his brother could get along as they had in the old days, and though it was terrible that the events of the past few years had been necessary just to come to this one moment, Steve was glad. They’d made it through those trials, and it had led to many gifts, to  love of all kinds. 

Loki pulled up a chair, and they got to important matters. “Hela has resurrected her army with the eternal flame,” he explained. “She draws her power from Asgard. We cannot waste time destroying her when we return. She fought for many centuries alongside Odin, and is a skilled and powerful warrior. We must make every advantage we can for ourselves.”

“How do you know all this?” Thor frowned curiously.

“A little research,” Loki leaned back in his chair. “Not as much as I would have liked, but I managed to find some answers while helping Heimdall round up the civilians.”

Thor shut his eyes and bowed his head in solemn gratitude. When he lifted it there was darkness in his gaze. He squeezed the empty mug in his grip. “How do we kill her?”

“That, I do not know,” the god of mischief admitted. “I would prefer a more efficient method to trial and error, but we not have a choice. Perhaps she could be killed by traditional methods, but I am not certain. She may be too powerful already to simply stab.”

Thor snorted to himself. “I’m sure we can find you the opportunity.”

Loki’s murderous stare mirrored his brother’s. “I would not shy away from it.”

“What about your power?” Steve asked. “Thor?”

“Without Mjolnir, it is... resistant,” Thor winced.

“You never needed Mjolnir to access it. I’ve seen you do it before,” Steve insisted, because he knew Thor was capable, and they could  _ really _ use the thunder god for this.

Thor shook his head. “No, but even when it wasn’t in my hand it served as a key. After so long relying on it, it may take some time to learn how to open the door a different way.”

That was fair. Thor was set in his ways, so used to having his hammer to help channel his power that he was lost without it now that it was suddenly gone. He’d had no time to adjust. “Then learn,” Steve insisted. “You made us a storm cloud over this place to help find you. I know  you can do it. Whatever place you were in when you did that, get there.”

“It is not so simple,” Thor shook his head. “But I will try. Let us hope I find the answer in time.”

“We’ll do whatever we can to help,” Steve squeezed his shoulder, and Loki nodded in agreement.

They didn’t have much to make a plan with. Most of all, they would have to work together, which Loki seemed open to. He wasn’t protesting, or disregarding their input. In fact, he seemed more than willing to team up so this woman could be destroyed. The little group planned as much as they could before there was nothing else that could be done.

“So, you  wanna join our team?” Steve asked with a smile. Loki groaned and rolled his eyes.

“Team...?” Thor frowned.

“Yeah, we made it up when we came to get you,” Steve explained proudly. “It’s called the Revengers.”

“I like it,” Thor smiled darkly. “I’m sure I could think of a few things to get revenge for.”

“Good,” Steve stood up. “Wouldn’t be a team  without’ya .” Loki stood too, unimpressed.

The god collected what he’d brought back and set it on the couch beside Thor. “These should fit,” he explained. “I hope you can make due without a cape.”

“I’ll survive,” Thor murmured, inspecting what his brother had brought for him. Steve had a look too. Thor definitely couldn’t wear his old clothes, or what was left of them. Loki had found a pair of armored boots in the right size, some new leather pants, and a leather chest plate reinforced with steel trim. The god of thunder had a few more days of rest ahead of him, but he smiled firmly at the outfit waiting for him when he was on his feet. They couldn’t forget about this battle any longer: it was looming low over them, casting its threatening shadow across the peacefulness of this isolated room. 

_ One more fight. _

\--

Steve helped Thor back to his bed, the demigod wincing and limping all the way, but already much more balanced than his trip out. He let Steve helped him lie down and obediently held still so the Captain could check those wounds still healing. The blast marks in his shoulder and back were taking the longest, still red and raw in the prince’s tough skin. None of it would scar. That was a blessing. Steve did find a few faded scars across his partner’s body, though. He ran a thumb across Thor’s solid breast, tracing an old mark he could barely feel. But it was there, paler and slightly raised above the skin around it.

Thor watched him, a little pink. He lifted his shaking hand and a wrapped it around Steve’s. “Just a century ago,” he explained quietly. “We fought a long battle that day. Their leader wielded an axe so large that  Volstagg could never comprehend how it had not cleft me in half.” He smiled sadly at the memory and moved Steve’s hand down to his belly, resting his Captain’s fingers against the grooves of his abs. There was another mark there, just as faded but still present. “And this, a handful more centuries earlier. I had yet to learn a great deal of swordplay, and brashly took on an opponent I was not ready to fight. He was the better warrior, and I did not deserve my victory. It nearly cost me my life.”

As he so often did, Steve acted on feeling instead of thought. Instinct guided him, and he let it. He had no idea what he was doing, but some primal part of him did. He leaned over and pressed his lips to the scar.

Thor reached up with much more purpose, as he always did, in tune with his desires. He took the  hem of Steve’s shirt and pulled it up. Steve bent over and lifted his arms so it could be pulled off. Thor shakily discarded it and grabbed Steve’s face, pushing back locks of hair. He ran his fingers through it and stroked Steve’s beard. The prince brought his touch lower, rough palms brushed down his Captain’s neck, across his shoulders, and down his chest, admiring the hills and valleys of muscle covered in soft, perfectly smooth skin. There wasn’t a mark on it. 

“You are very beautiful,” Thor smiled, brushing his knuckles up the groove in the center of Steve’s torso. The soldier shivered in pleasure, and what he wanted he couldn’t even picture, so he had no idea what to ask for. Even if he’d known, he doubted he’d have asked for it: Thor was tired, his touch weaker than it should be. He was in no shape to be indulging Steve’s desires. It wouldn’t feel right. Now wasn’t the time.

But he gave Thor what he wanted, let the god admire his bare torso. Plenty of people had looked at him with combinations of admiration and lust, but never like this. Thor was looking through the muscle Erskine had given him, and he didn’t have to say that he was. Steve just knew. The hands that touched him were gentle and reverent. Steve had been told time and time again that he was a beautiful man, and even though he couldn’t always see it, some part of him knew that he was. But Thor made him feel like more than some carved and chiseled statue, a painting to be owned and admired. Sometimes Steve forgot that he wasn’t small and bent and constantly struggling with this ailment or that. Thor was tracing out the impossible muscle in his chest, and Steve  _ knew _ that even without the serum those fingers would still be touching him the same.

This body felt like his, because Thor made it feel as if he’d somehow built it with his own hands. Perhaps he had. If anyone other than Steve Rogers were inside what the serum had built, he wouldn’t be the same, and Thor loved it all because Steve Rogers was underneath. Steve had never felt so at home in his body. So he was quite happy to be kneeling here across Thor’s hips and letting the god admire him.

He wished he could express somehow the way Thor made him feel, wished he could put it into words so that Thor could know how much he and everything he did meant to Steve.

“Will you sleep with me?” Thor patted the space beside him with a hopeful glint in his drowsy eyes. 

“Course,” Steve smiled, the tickle up his spine persistent.

With that, he finished his work. He wrapped Thor’s healing wounds, glad to find they wouldn’t need too much longer. Then he helped the prince lie a little flatter and crawled under the covers beside him. Steve gently maneuvered Thor onto his shoulder and wrapped an arm around the demigod’s chest. Thor set his own arm on top and laced their fingers, heaving a contented sigh and shutting his eyes.

\--

Steve didn’t expect to be jolted awake.  Ragnarok was over, Thor had stopped it. Loki had told him as much. He’d hoped, too, that the nightmares could be over; Thor needed the sleep.  _ This isn’t fair. _

Yet here they were, Thor shaking like a leaf in a gale, muttering under his breath, eyes open and staring blankly at the ceiling as if a monster had torn it open and was climbing through.

The demigod was mostly healed, so Steve didn’t worry about shaking him a little, squeezing his chest with one arm and rubbing his shoulder with the other. Steve knew he’d probably be more effective at stopping the nightmare if he’d had Mjolnir to connect their minds and stick him right in the middle of it, but he’d rather be physically present to provide comfort. “Come on, wake up...” he pleaded.  _ Not this, not now... It’s over, you stopped it. Just Hela left.  _ He snorted humorlessly to as he propped himself sitting on one arm, Thor very tightly squeezed against him. “Aw sweetheart...”

Thor swatted out with his arm, and Steve grabbed it, holding it prisoner.  _ You’re  _ _ gonna _ _ hurt yourself.  _ At least Steve had a chance of overpowering the demigod in this state, effectively holding him immobile against him. Thor struggled, but it wasn’t with enough of his usual strength nor any of his coordination, to break free.

It didn’t take as much work as usual to wake up the demigod. Steve smacked out his hand and fumbled for the radio, managing to turn it on from here without really being able to see it. He kissed up and down Thor’s cheek and jaw, rubbing the center of his chest with his thumb until finally the prince broke his rhythm and hitched a breath, opening his eyes and falling silent. He slumped in Steve’s grip, panting and defeated.

They sat on the edge of the bed together in the dim light, Thor arm draped across Steve’s shoulders because he couldn’t seem to find any of the strength he’d started regaining. Steve couldn’t tell if he was spent, or just submitting to the dream’s torment. Steve gave his support regardless, dragging a blanket across their shoulders. All the cheeriness and stoicism the god was known for was gone, wiped away by this perpetual torment. They sat in silence, Thor with his eyes squeezed tightly shut in defiance, and Steve letting him gather himself. He wasn’t sure what to say anyway. 

Finally, Thor dropped his face into his hand and pinched the bridge of his nose, trembling with pent up grief until he couldn’t hold it in anymore. He sucked in a wet breath, and though his tears were hidden, Steve could hear them in the prince’s shaky gasps. They both moved at the same time, Steve to pull Thor into a hug, and Thor turning into it, collapsing forward and wrapping his other arm around his Captain’s back. He set his head on Steve’s shoulder, immediately soaking it with tears. He sobbed quietly, and Steve held him tight, rubbing his head and his back in gentle circles.

“If I could make it all end, I would,” Steve whispered. There was no reply, but Thor was listening. “If I could take you away somewhere where none of this mattered, believe me we’d be there already.”

“Who else will end it if not us?” Thor whispered, giving the answer in the question; they couldn’t escape, not yet.

“We  _ will _ end it,” Steve promised. “Then I’ll take you home, and we won’t ever have to think about this again. You’re the strongest, kindest,  most resilient person I’ve ever met, and I know you’d keep fighting until your last breath, but you don’t have to.”

“Don’t want to,” Thor sniffled wetly.

“Sometimes being strong means knowing when to stop,” Steve agreed affirmingly. “You don’t have to keep fighting.”  _ Would you stop? Would you want to? If you could give all of this up, would you? Would you be happy never picking up a weapon again?  _ Neither of them  were supposed to get tired. Neither of them  were supposed to leave the ring, because there were people who were looking to them for guidance and inspiration and strength. Maybe it was time to step aside and let someone else rise up to that role.

“I just want to sleep,” Thor murmured. “I’m tired.”

“I know,” Steve whispered hoarsely. “I know. I’ve got you.”

“I’m glad you’re here.”

The soldier smiled sadly. “Me too. And I’ll be here when this is over. You’re not leaving my sight again, got it?”

Thor mumbled his affirmative and nodded weakly against Steve’s shoulder, perfectly content with that arrangement.

“You’re so brave and strong,” Steve whispered. It needed to be said. It was true. “You got me through so much. You protected me so many times, and took care of me, and I didn’t ever tell you how much it meant. Even with all your responsibilities, and your kingdom, you still took care of me and gave me everything, and I can’t tell you how much that means to me.”

“Deserve it,” Thor muttered, shifting a little to find a better position. Steve let him get settled and tightened his grip again.

“ So do you,” he replied. “ So do you. I’ll give as much back as I can-”

“Already have,” Thor whispered. “I have everything I need.”


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Go get yourself a soundtrack. The fighting finally begins!

There was no point in waiting around, because the longer they dragged this out, the worse these dreams were going to get. They were picking up again, and Thor couldn’t spare to lose that many nights of sleep.

It had been about a week, and he was just shy of healed, moving around without any aid. He wasn’t moving as gracefully at he’d like, but Loki had assured that the eir could give him something to help. 

Thor was putting on the armor his brother had brought him, cinching the buckles. He had to admit, it was comforting to be clad in leather and steel again. Everything was a good fit, and his wounds were healed enough that they weren’t bothered at all to be pressed up against the material unprotected. It was disconcerting that some of them were still visible. He could make out a red splotch on his shoulder, which was tender to press on, and the mark in his neck still clearly showed where the disk had been cut out of him. The wound was indented slightly into his flesh. 

There were a handful of other scars that hadn’t quite finished fading, but he tried not to think about them. They wouldn’t slow him down, and they certainly wouldn’t stop him from beating Hela. Thor gave the straps of his bracers an extra yank of determination.

Steve emerged from the bathroom, clean-shaven and shirtless, his uniform top and undershirt draped over his shoulder. The loss of his beard took years off his face. The Captain rarely looked scruffy, even when he was fresh out of bed with his clothes rumpled and his hair a mess, always possessing an angelic glow about him, but he definitely looked sharper and neater now that he’d shaved. “Are you ready?” the soldier walked right over and looked him up and down.

“Yes,” Thor agreed firmly. He was ready to end this. He was ready to go home and have a good night’s sleep that wasn’t brought on by exhaustion and poisoning, nor disturbed by dreams. He was ready to abandon his responsibilities and collapse into warm sheets with Steve at his side.

But right now, he was ready to fight.

“You look it,” Steve smiled and pulled on his shirt. The fabric slid across his muscular chest and hugged it tightly. So much power, and yet for a moment Thor wondered if this was such a good idea.

“Are  _ you _ ready?” Thor faced his partner. “Hela is beyond what you have ever fought, beyond even what I have encountered.”

Steve didn’t hesitate. He met the Asgardian’s gaze with unwavering conviction as he picked up his shield harness and tightened it over his shoulders. “Then we’d better fight her together.”

He couldn’t possibly turn Steve down, not after what had happened the last  time he’d tried to fight his problems alone. He had almost died for it. Granted, the scenario was different here, but still... Was this too much to ask of any mortal, even one as brave and strong and clever as Steve?

Too late. Loki was walking in, tesseract in-hand, ready to transport them back to Asgard. The god of mischief gave his brother a brief but satisfied once-over, and they exchanged a short nod, Loki’s of relief and Thor’s of gratitude. Steve put on his helmet and did up the clasp, then slid his hand into Thor’s and wove their fingers. The prince pressed their shoulders together, glad to have the Captain at his side. It made facing what was coming a little less daunting.

“We cannot waste time,” Loki explained, smoothly shimmering and transforming into Odin in only a handful of seconds. “Do we all know the plan?” The other two nodded. “Good.”

Thin air swallowed them, and  Sakaar was gone. Thor wasn’t sad to see it absorbed in the never-ending vastness of space as he was torn away and thrown all the way back to  Asgard . The trip was a little more jarring than before, but Steve was there to steady him, reliable and solid.

Asgard was still here, and his people safely gathered in the little cavern where Loki had explained he’d hidden them. The small party had materialized at the edge, and the nearest heads turned to face them. Immediately, a ripple passed through the crowds as word travelled and all eyes searched for their returned prince. The glow of hope was palpable, clambering above the weight of dread. Their prince would protect them.  _ I will, with everything I have. _

“My lord,” Sif pushed through the crowds, Heimdall on her heels. She gave Steve a respectful nod. “You are just in time. Hela will soon find us.”

Heimdall reached out his hand and Thor shook it, smiling into his friend’s warm and knowing gaze. The watcher drew him closer and patted him on the shoulder, speaking too quietly for the nearby citizens to hear. “You are injured, my friend.”

“I’m alright,” Thor assured. “Well enough to fight.”

“But not before seeing the  eir ,” Loki stepped in. “Where are they, Heimdall?”

“This way,” the watcher beckoned, and the crowds parted to let the party through. Steve didn’t let go of Thor’s hand, keeping at his side and walking tall and strong.

_ You would make a fine prince,  _ Thor thought proudly to himself, rubbing his thumb across the Captain’s knuckles. There was no need to pretend in front of his people, and he couldn’t have found it in himself to care what they thought, even if they were bothered. There were more pressing matters at hand anyway.

The  eir had set up what they’d managed to gather from the palace off to one side of the room. Thor was glad to see that none of the citizens had been seriously injured in the attacks, and that the space they had set up was unoccupied. Though, perhaps that was a bad sign. Thor couldn’t help but notice that the fraction of soldiers was much lower than it should be. Those that had gone into battle would be dead. There was no salvaging that, and nothing for the  eir to treat.

Loki was a marvelous actor, and for a moment Thor forgot that it was not his father standing over him, but his brother. As it was, Loki’s presence was far warmer than Odin’s had been. His brother stood protectively over him, leaving just enough room to allow the healers room. “He was poisoned, and the affects still ail him,” Loki spoke on his behalf, which was probably for the best. He had a much better recollection of the details than Thor did. Thor still wasn’t entirely sure how bad the  extend of his injuries had been, given that he hadn’t been aware or conscious when they’d been afflicted, and had been asleep for a good portion of his recovery.

Sif made sure the curious and concerned citizens kept their distance, while Steve pulled him sitting on a little stool by the wall, standing close. Heimdall watched on from a distance, one eye on Hela’s approach, the other on his prince. The  eir got to work, searching for spells while they spoke with Loki. Most of it became a buzz as Thor lost himself in thought. Hands touched him, moving his arm and turning his head, pushing over his sore skin. Warmth bled into his skin as the head healer tried a healing spell to mend the wounds while the others searched for a way to completely purge traces of the poison. The clinging ache in his shoulder and neck faded away to nothing, and Thor truly appreciated how weak and hurt he’d been as even more strength ebbed back into his body.

“He needs rest,” the healer was explaining to Loki, serious as always. “His energy is depleted, and though it is returning, it still needs time. I can make him something to temporarily strengthen him, but what he requires is sleep, more than anything.”

Fighting was not sleeping, but they couldn’t hold this off any longer. The longer they waited, the more sleep he was going to lose to these cursed nightmares. His physical injuries wouldn’t have healed much more beyond this. He would have simply become more and more weary, and less and less useful. This was the only way. The healer handed him a cup, and he drank without hesitation or question. The fluid was more powerful than the tea Loki had been making him, imbued with stronger magic. Thor handed the glass back and stood up, immediately feeling another step toward himself. “Thank you,” he gave the healer a grateful nod.

She regarded him with an unusual amount of tenderness, disapproving of this task, but knowing that he had no choice but to carry it through. Maybe that was a spark of power inside of him, but he couldn’t be sure. It still felt fleeting and barely present, uncommunicative and resistant without Mjolnir to guide it. He would make due. His people were counting on him.  _ Steve _ was counting on him, to win this and come out alive. The prince set his jaw and walked through the crowds, squeezing Steve’s hand for strength and taking the Captain with him to the front of the room. He hopped up the raised platform of rock and surveyed his people, as they in turn gazed up at him in search of guidance and reassurance. Steve hung behind with Loki and Sif and Heimdall, staring up at him as well.

This was much more Steve’s strength than his, but it was his duty as prince to bestow confidence, so he puffed out his chest and spread his hands, drawing out the determination Steve stirred in him when the Captain did what Tony so fondly referred to as ‘cheerleading’ (flashy outfit fitting). “Hela marches on us thinking she has cast me away! She marches believing she has crushed your spirit, and that if she hasn’t, she has yet to. We will teach her again the spirit of the Aesir. Stay strong, take heart, and protect each other.”

He was met with smiling faces filled with fear for what was to come, but there was nothing but bravery surging up underneath. Thor stood proud for a moment just to admire his kingdom.

Heimdall’s expression cracked, urgency breaking his calm demeanor. “Thor.”

The prince strode down from his perch and walked over as his friends all clustered around him to form a tight circle. “Father, take the others and guide the people to safety. You know what to do if we cannot defeat her?” He stared firmly into Loki’s eyes.

“I do,” his brother agreed, and Thor knew he would not hesitate if the hard decision had to be made.

“It won’t come to that,” Steve set a hand on the prince’s shoulder, expression firm as he used his Captain’s voice.

“Let us hope,” Thor agreed. “Heimdall, make sure everyone is sent to  Vanaheim . They will be safe there.”

Heimdall nodded in approval, and Sif drew her sword in agreement, following the watcher as he started to lead the people for the door.

“I will keep Hela at bay long enough to get them to safety,” Thor assured, once again locking eyes with his brother. “Protect them, then come help me when everyone is safe.”

Odin’s aged face stared back, stoic as always but more caring than he remembered it ever being. “Be careful.” In a shimmer of gold,  Gungnir appeared in his brother’s grip. The god handed it over wordlessly and took his leave. Thor squeezed his father’s weapon tightly.

Now it was only Steve, looking reluctant and nervous, but smiling at him with upturned eyebrows, worried and proud all at once. Thor turned his whole body to face him, opening his mouth, but he was immediately cut off.

“Here,” the Captain pulled the shield from his back and handed it over. “You’ll need it”

“So will you,” Thor nudged it back toward its owner.

“Just... take it. Please.” Steve pushed back, a little harder this time. “I’ll be back to get it.  So don’t scratch it, alright?”

“I’ll-”

The Captain grabbed him by the straps of his armor and yanked him closer, catching him in a strong kiss that screamed for more than what time could allow, frantically searching inside his mouth and inviting the exploration in return. It was wet and rushed and possessive, and Thor loved every second of it, his heart throbbing with pleasure and racing in  surprise that rapidly became desire. He wanted more, too.  _ Much _ more.  _ We can have it when the battle is won.  _ He let this mark a promise.

Steve ran off, leaving his shield gripped tightly in Thor’s hand. He had no time to waste, as much as he would happily watch his Captain race off from behind.

“Let us catch up on what we missed, Sister,” Thor growled under his breath and slid his arm through the straps of Steve’s shield, thinking only of battle. 

The prince ran to the castle. Without Mjolnir he couldn’t fly, but he was still fast. The forest flew past him, and  Asgard’s golden spires drew closer.  _ One last battle.  _ Thor took the back entrance, leaping up a single floor and landing on the balcony, balancing Steve’s shield and his father’s spear. His boots pounded on the polished floors which were empty and hollow. He didn’t slow until he reached the throne room.

There, his father used to sit. Many  times Thor had stood here and been looked down upon. The prince tightened his grip around  Gungnir and stalked to the throne, walking up the step and sitting. The last time he’d sat here, he’d been a child, dreaming of someday inheriting this kingdom as its king. Thor clenched his jaw and stamped the end of his father’s spear on the floor, filling the room with three resonating clangs.

Hela was not long. She appeared from the shadows, bearing all her mother’s beauty and power and cleverness, but none of her compassion. Thor saw in her a hunger for power and blood he had only ever seen in his father’s eye. “You don’t make much of an entrance, brother,” he paced toward him like a cat, eying him as he  prey . She expected little of him. “Are you here to reclaim your kingdom? To strike me down and save your people like the brave hero they think you are? Or was this Father’s final wish?”

“This is no-one's wish but mine,” Thor stood up. “You will not take this place.”

“I am far more powerful than you ever were with your pathetic hammer,” Hela scoffed openly, pushing back her hair. Dark horns spread from her skull, and she spread her hands invitingly, black blades sliding into her palms. She stood there, waiting for his own display.

Thor had no feathers to fan. If he could have latched onto his power, he would have one-upper her display easily, but without it the best he could do was stand up and bravely face her. She couldn’t scare him. He held up  Steve’s shield and raised  Gungnir , pointing the spear promisingly at his estranged relative. Hela  _ looked _ stronger since he’d last seen her, but Thor could already feel more power strengthening him from his core.  Asgard’s soil was revitalizing him.

Hela attacked, flinging her swords at him with deadly speed and precision. Thor batted them aside with his shield and jumped down from the throne, easily rolling his father’s spear in his hand and balancing its weight. All his time spent on Earth had  _ not _ weakened or dulled him – not with Steve to train with. Thor didn’t need Mjolnir, and he didn’t have to rely on it. When Hela swung around her arm, flicking her wrist and shooting out another flurry of knives, Thor ducked to the side and moved inside her range, smacking her arm aside with  Gungnir and smashing the edge of his shield into her shoulder. He dropped below her other arm and turned his hips, straightening and kicking her in the waist. She actually staggered back, mildly surprised. Thor couldn’t help but smirk, resetting his stance to prepare for her retaliation.

“You can’t protect your people,” Hela growled. “My army marches on them now, and you think you can whisk them all away to safety.” She was trying to discourage him, distract him with other thoughts as she tried to spear him.

Thor ducked behind the shield and popped back up to swat at her with his spear, ducking back again. “My people are strong. They will not submit to you.”

“ _ Your _ people?” she scoffed, forcing him back a step, then another. He wasn’t quite fast enough to dodge her next swipe or block it, and the perfectly sharp blade cut his armor like butter. “You aren’t even king. You’re hardly fit to be prince, for one so weak.”

Thor smacked both of her arms outward to leave himself an opening, kicking her in the stomach. It didn’t do much. A hit that would have thrown a mortal, or even another Asgardian across the hall only made her slide back a step and glare at him. That was all he needed. Thor had time to turn all the way around and gather momentum, swiping the spear into her legs. She took the hit and went down, wrapping her arm around the spear as she did. Her leg swept out and brought him down, and she twisted the spear in her grip. He hung on, and they both rolled as she tried to maneuver him where she wanted.

Hela twisted his leg with her and pulled him toward her with the spear. Thor let go and slid the shield from his arm, gripping the edge and whipping it around. He jammed her in the forehead with an explosive crack, knocking her head to the side. She straightened and growled, throwing the spear away and rolling on top of him, lifting her hands and summoning her blades. She was going to spear him to the floor. Thor yanked his arms out of the way before she could and pushed the shield into her chest and face. He shoved her upward and rolled sideways, letting go of the object to give himself a few moments to right himself.

Hela stood up too, kicking away the shield and holding a sword in her hand. She stalked for him darkly. “I expected better of you, brother. Did father not train you well enough? Was he afraid you would become like me and be too powerful for him, that you would take his kingdom away and restore it to its glory without him?”

“Not everything is about power,” Thor replied, raising his fists. She lashed out with her blade, toying with him, testing how quickly he could move. For now, it was fast enough. Her jabs missed, though barely.

“Unless you are in a fight,” she smirked. “In which case, it will cost you your life.” She stabbed at his chest ferociously.

Thor managed to duck. She was pushing him backward, but he aimed his path toward his fallen weapons, hopping back a few more steps closer. Hela hurled her sword at him and summoned another, forcing him to lunge sideways, farther away from the spear. He rolled on the hard floor and stopped on one knee, leaning backward to avoid a sword in the throat. The blade stabbed into the wall behind and buried deep. Thor stood, hurrying back the other way in an attempt to arm himself again. He couldn’t beat her with his bare fists, and likely couldn’t have on a good day. He could feel weakness clinging to his bones like a damp mold, slowing his movements and lagging his reflexes. Hela caught him, and he was a split second too slow this time: the first blow he blocked, his wrist holding hers away from his head, but she kicked him in the ankle. His body dropped to one knee, and she swept her blade across his face. He couldn’t help but shout. 

A tearing, burning sensation consumed half his face, hot blood immediately slicking his cheek and filling his ear. It blinded him, but it wasn’t that there was blood in his eye... the socket was empty. His eye was  _ gone.  _ He could  _ feel _ it. Hela loomed over him, a blurry dark shape framed in gold,  Gungnir in her hand and her expression twisting into sensual satisfaction. She took a moment to relish in her victory. Thor growled and started to push his legs under him, because nothing short of death would beat him, but she whipped the spear around and cracked him in the head with it. His body was thrown sideways, and he landed hard on the tile. Blood immediately glued his face to the floor, soaking into his hair and puddling around his cheek.

“What a shame,” Hela tossed the spear aside casually and walked leisurely over. “I could have made you into ten times the warrior you are now. A hundred times, even. I expected better. Perhaps Loki is not the only adopted one.” She huffed a short, sneering laugh and loomed over him, her horns casting an eerie shadow over him.

The goddess of death was about to take him. He had to keep fighting.  _ I nearly broke my promise once before.  _ Where  _ was _ his power? He’d promised Steve he would have it when he needed it, and he needed it now. But it wasn’t coming, no matter how hard he tried to yank it free. His body ached anew, and he felt how heavy and weak it was again. She was so much stronger, and only growing more so. He wasn’t good enough to beat her, not good enough to protect his people.

“Your people will perish shortly,” Hela whispered, very close now. “And I will build this kingdom into what you nor Odin never could. Such a shame, I would have like to have a little brother. One that is not a  disappointment -”

The sound of metal striking flesh cut her off alongside a grunt of surprise. “That’s  _ enough.” _

He couldn’t see Hela anymore, her ominous crown of  horns blocked by large shoulders. This was not the first time Steve had dropped himself between Thor and the danger, but it wasn’t any less relieving.  _ Never let it be said that your timing is anything but perfect. _

Steve had his shield in one hand and  Gungnir in the other, undaunted as always in the face of insurmountable danger. He took a threatening step toward Hela. “Whatever’s keepin’ you, you better figure it out. I’ll buy you as much time as I can.”

Thor squeezed his fists. He had a little time. Wherever his power was, it had better come out to play in time. 


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all know I like my entrances.

A Hulk would have been nice right about now. As mindless armies went, this one was among the more challenging Steve had ever faced. He kept pace with the group as Heimdall and Loki led, taking the rear with Sif. They barely made the city before Hela’s undead army swarmed them. They came from the rear corner in waves, bursting from between buildings and flooding the streets. Heimdall hurried around to guard the people as they followed their king toward the rainbow bridge. Those soldiers that were left hung back to help. 

Steve usually found that warriors who weren’t thinking for themselves were typically easier to beat. A black-clad knight attacked the soldier, slashing wildly with his sword, eyes alight with bright emerald fire. Perhaps in life he had been a strong warrior, and would have made a challenging opponent, but he was no Thor, no Widow, no Barton. Steve sidestepped the sword and grabbed his attacker by the wrist, hurling the body into the swarm. It crumbled to dust and split apart those that it hit. Sheer force would be more than enough against these enemies. Steve put his fist through the head of the next possessed knight, and headbutted another, stepping back so that Sif could slash through their flailing bodies and reduce them to dust. 

“It has been a long time, Captain!” she called, kicking and slashing by his side with a healthy amount of enjoyment. She was ever the swords-master he remembered. These mindless corpses were foolish to challenge her. But then, to be anything they would be thinking for themselves, and that was the point. 

Steve smiled and ripped off an arm, throwing the owner her direction. She sliced it in half and the remains shattered at her feet. “Same old same old,” the Captain remarked. Maybe the next time he visited Asgard, it _ wouldn’t _get attacked. 

“Looks like you could use a weapon, Captain!” Heimdall was at his side, tossing a sword into his hand. The next swarm of enemies were coming. Fists were working, but not as efficiently as a sword would, and with such a large army against them, they needed to make quick work of them. Steve gratefully accepted the weapon. 

“You’ve improved since we last fought!” Sif slid up beside him and took down the enemies trying to take his flank. 

“I’ve been practicing,” Steve grunted, cutting off both the arms of his current opponent at once and grabbing it by the collar and belt. He kicked the body in half and threw it into the two enemies behind. That provided the opening to slice those two through in one neat sweep. 

The rainbow bridge was close. They had managed to keep moving while keeping Hela’s army from reaching the people as Loki led them to the bi-frost. With Steve, Sif, Heimdall, and a handful of soldiers, they were effectively barricading off the bridge and keeping out the enemies. Steve stole a glance behind him to see how Loki was doing, pleased to find that the citizens had almost reached the bi-frost. 

“They will need the sword,” Heimdall mentioned, spinning the massive weapon over his head before cleaving a pair of attackers in half. “If you can hold them off, I will bring it to them.” 

“We can do it,” Steve nodded at Sif, and she agreed with a confident nod of her own. 

A great roar rang in Steve’s ears, and the ground beneath them shook with pounding steps. Even the enemy paused for a moment before resuming their attack. Steve fought and kept his eye on the city as he did so, dreading what was about to come. Hela wouldn’t make so much noise, would she...? 

No, it wasn’t Hela. It was a wolf, and it was bigger than the Hulk. It jumped over houses, dark fur rippling with the speed it was running. The slobbering, growling beast trampled any of the mindless army that got under its paws, and they weren’t too fast at moving out of the way. The beast roared, and Steve gripped his sword. 

Sif’s hand landed on his shoulder, a smirk curling her lips as she rolled the sword in her hand. “Guard the bridge,” he ordered, looking over and making eye-contact with Heimdall. “We have this one.” 

The Aesir were much stronger than a super-soldier. Steve picked up a second sword and prepared to defend the bridge, finding it difficult to resist the urge to just stop and watch as the two warriors ran right for the beast. A Hulk would have been ideal, but they could handle it. Steve got back to crumbling body after body, felling them as fast as he could. Just ahead, Sif and Heimdall were making steady work of the wolf, damaging its legs as they dragged and shoved it closer and closer to the water. Steve tightened the line with the Asgardian army. Together, they were all holding out well. 

Heimdall delivered the final kick, and the wolf toppled into the water, swept away by the current and thrown over the side into empty space. And Loki was at the bi-frost, hurrying as many people inside as he could while he waited for the key. 

“Go, bring it to him,” Steve gestured. “We can hold them off.” Heimdall nodded and got running. 

The connection to Thor had been broken and raw for some time now, and the ache had long faded since finding the prince again. But as Steve found himself worrying, he realized the hole in his chest wasn’t quite as hollow as before. There was something there, stringing them weakly together. Why it had suddenly reappeared, he had no idea, but he wasn’t about to question it. There were a lot of things in this universe that couldn’t be explained. 

Loki was suddenly at his side, moving through the soldiers to join the fray. Heimdall would take care of the people, get them to safety. The god’s expression was grim as he took to the mindless army in Odin’s form, ruthless with his blades. He glanced up at the palace’s golden towers at the same time Steve did, and they made eye contact. 

Steve’s heart squeezed painfully, reaffirming that he hadn’t imagined the bond. Loki was turning too, angling his head sharply as if he’d heard something. Maybe he had. 

“Sif,” the god faced the warrior. “You can hold them back?” 

“With pleasure,” she agreed. 

“If you see fire, you run for the bi-frost, understand? Make sure everyone gets to safety,” Loki ordered. 

Sif nodded without arguing. “Be careful, Your Highness, Steve.” 

‘Careful’ wasn’t very applicable here, but they could certainly try. There were no more words to be exchanged. Something was wrong. _ I shouldn’t have let him try to fight Hela by himself. _The people would be safe. Sif would be fine. He could forget about them, and set his mind to one thing. Loki was quick to mask both of them so they could sneak around the side of the attacking army and slip away into the deserted city. They ran for the palace, Steve as fast as he could go and Loki matching the pace, abandoning his disguise the moment they were out of sight of the others. He led the way confidently, darting through paths memorized over centuries, some of which Steve wondered were secret. Loki knew of secret pathways and shortcuts to other realms, so surely he would know of ones around his own kingdom. 

“I fear she may have become too strong,” Loki finally spoke. “We cannot take that risk.” The palace consumed them, replacing direct sunlight with golden bounce light instead. His footsteps were barely audible as he ran toward what Steve remembered to be the throne room. He could already here the clashing of metal from here. A loud and pained shout pierced his ears, but he was too worried to wince. That was Thor’s deep timbre layered beneath the high-pitched scream of pain and surprise. _ No! _

They turned a corner, slowing to a stop as Loki brought them to the doorway and peered inside, urgency in his expression. Both of them wanted to burst in, but they restrained themselves in favor of a plan, surveying the situation first. 

Steve spotted Thor before anything else, his body sprawled on the floor, a wet scarlet puddle spilling onto the floor around his head. _ Is he alive? Is he alive? God, he has to be- _ He was. He was breathing, trying to get up. He couldn’t. Steve’s shield was abandoned on the floor just a few feet from the door, the spear not far from it. Over Thor loomed a woman glad in green and black, a crown of black antlers atop her head, and a long black sword sliding out of her arm and into her hand. She was going to strike. 

But not before giving her spiel. Steve didn’t care to listen to it. He turned to Loki, and the god was already facing him and speaking. “Help him. Hold her back as long as you can. We must continue with the plan-” 

“No,” Steve grabbed Loki’s arm before he could leave. _ We can’t. Not if we don’t have to. _“No, we don’t have to do that. That’s too high a cost.” 

“It’s the only way-” 

“It isn’t,” Steve squeezed, and the god didn’t pull away. “You have the tesseract?” 

Of course Loki had it. So they modified the plan, briefly. Loki dashed off, and Steve turned, walking silently into the throne room. 

He was angrier than he had ever felt. Angrier even than at the Grand Master. Steve was generally cool-headed, but this rage was absolute and pushed everything else aside to take up every grain of space. It made him faster, stronger, breaking down the barriers that were always in place to hold him back somewhat, even unconsciously. He ran, hooking his foot under the spear and kicking it into his hand. He didn’t stop, stomping on his shield to flip it into his other hand. Hela hadn’t noticed him, too busy gloating over her injured brother. 

_ What am I _ _ supposed to _ _ do against her? _

No. There was no room for doubt. He would do what he had always done against impossible odds, as he had already told himself he would do. Steve put a deadly spin on his shield and threw it as he ran. The disk bounced off the wall and smashed Hela between the eyes, cutting her off mid-sentence. Steve put himself between her and Thor, neatly catching the disk as it bounced back, brandishing the spear. It was surging with power, probably imbued with some form of magic if it truly did used to belong to the great Allfather. It didn’t have Mjolnir’s character, but it was offering up some strength. Steve took it. “That’s _ enough. _ " _ This is my fight now. As it will be for as long as I can hold it. _

Thor clearly hadn’t been using his lightning. He looked tired, panting roughly with his face pressed into the floor. His body heaved, and he looked up a little. Steve turned the spear in his hand to test its weight and squeezed his shield strap. “Whatever’s keepin’ you, you better figure it out. I’ll buy you as much time as I can.” 

Hela was straightening, regarding him with confusion and disgust as she looked him up and down. “And just what are you supposed to be, darling?” She was scrutinizing his suit, and the big silver star in the center. Steve puffed out his chest. “How interesting. A mortal has not found its way into this grand kingdom in many centuries.” 

Talking was fine. Talking meant less fighting, which meant Loki had more time, and Thor had more time to sort himself out and get his power under control. Hela could observe him like a fascinating artifact all she wanted. Let her. Steve clutched the spear tighter, sinking into his heels to better shield Thor’s body. “I met your dad. That’s not a surprise.” 

“And you wield his weapon,” Hela seemed amused. “Yet you are no less mortal. Do you think that weapon will be enough to bring you victory where gods have fallen?” she glanced at her brother, and Steve growled, shifting to block her view. 

_ I don’t have to win. I just have to keep you busy. _He could do that. “You won’t be my first impossible fight.” 

“Cocky, I like that,” Hela smirked. “But it will be your last.” 

Not cocky. _ Confident. _ Steve knew he couldn’t beat her, even before the fight had started, before he had seen her powers or witnessed her strength. She was stronger than Thor, and he had rarely managed to get the upper hand on his thunder god in hand-to-hand- combat, let alone an armed fight. He simply wasn’t strong enough. But he could keep her busy with sheer stubbornness on top of his impressive skill. He could bet she had never fought anyone like him before, and that would work to his advantage. _ Underestimate me. _Let her mock his outfit and mortal weaknesses. 

She lunged for him, and he scanned his eyes across her body, his already enhanced brain moving much faster under the added boost of rage. The serum allowed him to spot her oncoming attack and the one she was preparing just behind. He streamlined his form as he jumped, spinning and angling himself through the blades she hurled at him. They speared harmlessly into the wall behind, and Steve swung Odin’s spear like a baseball bat, cracking Hela under the jaw and knocking her off course. The blow itself should have done much more damage, but it did take her by surprise. Steve didn’t stop moving, jumping sideways to both avoid her next unfaltering strike and guide the fight away from Thor. 

Steve fought with all his power. Strength was one thing. He’d gone full-strength on Thor plenty of times, when fighting to win. But fighting a friend, even a god, was different from fighting an enemy. And fighting an enemy was different even than this. The fraction of his power he needed to unleash to take down enemies was a lot less than what he was capable of. It was wasn’t necessary to run into every battlefield snapping necks left and right. So Steve often held back. Not here. He wasn’t fighting to win, he was fighting to _ destroy, _ and that meant that today, there were no barriers. Today, he would be ruthless. 

It surprised even himself how fast he could move. Hela quickly realized that he was going to be more troublesome than she had originally imagined, and rained down her attacks. Steve was lithe, and he knew how to control his huge body. He wouldn’t be an easy target, and the shots he couldn’t dodge he blocked with his shield or knocked aside with his spear while he mapped out an attack of his own. She wasn’t leaving many openings, and there would be no way to disarm her, not when she could produce endless weapons, ones which could be used at close range like a sword or a knife, but could also be used as highly-precise projectiles. If she could hit him from any distance, he was best staying close, where he could hit back. Chances to retaliate would be few, and it would be best to stay close so he could act on them. 

Steve didn’t waste a movement. He had to be efficient, and he had to keep moving. It was taking almost everything just to keep from taking a hit, leaving barely crumbs for an attack. 

But Hela wasn’t changing her attack pattern. Therefore, Steve quickly mapped them out, testing them with smaller, less risky attacks of his own to see how she would adapt. She did, but predictably enough that he knew he could shift this fight a little more in his own favor with the right opening. 

Steve finally threw his shield, putting a fast spin on it and aiming it to the side. It bounced behind Hela and headed straight for the wall while its owner batted a flurry of knives harmless to the floor with the spear. He ran and dropped, sliding between her legs with the weight on his hips, leading with the spear. His shield flew over him and hit her in the back of the neck, bouncing back and straight into his hand as he straightened. She turned, and he panned the shield around his body to protect against the next barrage of blades while he spun the other way. Steve carried through the spin and snapped his shield to his back, whipping his leg around from the hip as he jumped. He gripped the spear with both hands as he got his knee firmly in place around her throat. The Captain hooked the spear in her antlers, hanging on tightly as he twisted her head against the turn of his torso. With sheer momentum, he brought her down with enough force to snap a human neck. They both came down, and Steve landed exactly where he wanted, on one shoulder, and rolled, freeing his leg. He never stopped moving, never stopped rolling as he kept his momentum and twisted the spear like a bottle opener. He didn’t let go, either, striking with every opening that came his way while he had the chance. Steve rolled into a crouch and let go of the spear with his shield arm, holding it at the ready while he changed his grip on the spear still woven in Hela’s horns. Mercilessly, he yanked down her head and smashed her in the face with his knee. 

Then he threw her. Steve pushed to his feet and spun around, throwing the goddess across the hall. The spear came loose as she sailed, clattering to the floor. Hela turned in the air, expectedly graceful as she turned her body mid-air and swept her arm in a wide arc. Countless swords flew toward him, giving her time to land like a cat and pounce forward, closing the gap between them while he protected himself behind his shield from her weapons. 

“You are troublesome, for a mortal,” Hela gave him that, sliding a sword into her hand and striking his shield, trying to knock it aside. She was a lot stronger than he was, and he was forced to slide his foot backward. 

Steve took another step back so he had some room to launch forward off the lever. He rocketed forward, bouncing his shield off her chest and dropping immediately into a crouch, sweeping his leg into her calves. She jumped over him, slicing for his back. Steve felt her blade strike his shield as he whipped it over his head and snapped it hurriedly to his back. He stayed low as he turned around to face her, putting his weight into his hands and spinning at the waist, whipping his heel into the soft flesh of her side. It struck, and would have killed a normal person, once again. 

And once again, it only served to temporarily off-balance the goddess. It wasn’t long enough to work with. Steve didn’t give up, tightening his core as kept his hips off the floor and carried through his momentum. He struck her knee with his foot and forced her to the ground. She went down and he jumped over her torso, all of her knives missing him as he rolled and picked up the fallen spear. She was up at the same time as he was. Steve spun in a circle for momentum, meeting her knives with his shielded back perfectly. As he came around, he struck out for her throat. She bent backward, a murderous grin on her lips and in her wild eyes as she grabbed the spear and returned him his dues, twisting. Steve gripped the weapon with both hands and added momentum to what she gave him. He dropped his body and brought them both down. They rolled, and Hela yanked him toward her. Before he could let go of the spear she had him by his shield harness. 

She loomed over him and grinned, rising to her feet and lifting him off the ground. Steve drew his shield from his back. _ Now would be a great time. Thor, Loki, someone. Come on. Thor, I know you can. I know you can do it. Get up and help me. We can hold her back, together. _

Hela hurled him, chucking his body like a sack at the closest wall. Steve righted himself in the air, but there was no way he was hitting anything but that wall, so no way to land gracefully. He didn’t manage to get his shield to his back to absorbed the blow, hitting straight on with his shoulders instead. With a loud crack, he struck the surface and dropped to the floor, barely managing to get his legs under him. The impact had dented the wall, and certainly knocked the wind out of him. Hela was already closing the gap between them, aiming to throw a blade at him. 

Steve lifted his shield, and the shot aimed for his heart pierced his shoulder instead, knocked upward by his quick reflexes and the resilient surface of his steadfast companion. The blade drove through him like he was butter, spearing him to the wall. Hela swept over him like a vengeful spirit, hissing and clutching his throat. She pushed her nails into his jaw, grinning at him tauntingly. 

“What were you the god of again?” she goaded, bringing her face in close and squeezing his windpipe threateningly. 

He couldn’t answer. He didn’t have to. The room wasn’t so gold anymore, orange cast in blue, darker and brighter at the same time as dark clouds filled the high ceiling and spat fat tendrils of lightning. Steve had _ known... _ Thor had just needed the boost, the motivation, the extra push to reign his power entirely under his control. Hela was so far up in Steve’s face that she didn’t notice in time. She was suddenly ripped away, Thor’s pulsing, glowing body in her place. He flung her aside as she had flung Steve, and she smashed into the wall all the way on the other side of the great hall. 

Thor swelled with each breath, muscles rippling under his skin and his veins swimming and crackling like live wires. His cape flowed thick and scarlet off his shoulders, his borrowed armor replaced with something a little more familiar, more fitting. It was darker than Steve remembered it... It suited him. 

Thor turned, and his eye was just _ gone. _ One eye danced with bright blue sparks, and where the other one should be was a dark and bloody void. The light in his eye died for a moment as he stumbled a little closer and knelt down, worrying his hands around the blade. “Steve,” he breathed. 

“It’s okay, it’s alright,” Steve huffed back. “God, your face...” 

“It’s alright,” Thor repeated, wrapped his hand around Hela’s blade and sliding it free. “Can you fight?” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve pushed his hand into the bleeding opening. It wasn’t serious. It had missed bone and artery, piercing only muscle. It would heal. For now, he was fine. He had fought with worse. “It’s not bad.” 

“Good,” Thor held out his hand and pulled the Captain standing, rippling with so much power it made Steve’s skin crackle and his hair stand on end. It was a good feeling, a reassuring one. 

“What about you?” Steve glanced up at the bloody, gushing gouge in the prince’s face. 

“I am fine,” he actually smirked. _ Cheeky... _

“Then I’m fine too,” Steve agreed, adjusting his shield on his arm. Hela was approaching again, angry and frustrated as her easy prey continued to rise again and again. 

“Good,” Thor smiled at him, then turned her gaze to his sister, raising his bare hands. “Together.” 

_ As it always should have been. _ “Let’s kick her ass,” Steve agreed. 

_ Oh, me? What am _ I _ the god of? Well, nothing. But _ he’s _ the god of thunder. _

Thor was brighter than Steve had ever seen, and he had seen his boyfriend do some damn impressive things with or without his power. Mjolnir had been his catalyst, but it had also held him back, pulling back on the reins while it drove the cart. Now Thor was the horse, unchained and in charge of where he went and how fast he got there. He burst ahead of Steve, full of life and strength as the energy literally glowing in his veins spurred him forward. Hela stabbed for him, but Steve picked up Odin’s spear and threw it like a javelin, keeping the blades from ever reaching Thor’s body. The god of thunder punched his sister in the face, smashing his sparking fist into her with a mighty yell. She staggered back, unbalanced more than Steve could have ever managed alone. 

He wasn’t alone, not anymore. 

Thor attacked, and Steve stayed close, keeping Hela’s projectiles from hitting his partner with his shield or the spear. As always, they were a good pair, moving perfectly in sync. 

Hela was still stronger. She could take Thor’s hit, evade his lightning, and continually pelt both of them with her never-ending swords. She wasn’t tiring, or slowing, and she had figured out their pattern. The goddess kicked her brother back and turned her fire directly to Steve, forcing him to tuck his whole body behind his shield to keep from being skewered. Of course she was there looming over him when he was finally able to lower his protection. She ripped it from his hands and threw it away, catching the spear as he swung it at her and stood. In a matter of heartbeats, she had disarmed him. 

“_ STEEEEVE!" _ Thor was yelling at him, trying to get his attention. He screamed something else the Captain couldn’t hear; Hela was swiping at him with the spear, smashing it into the floor. 

Steve grit his teeth and ducked her swing, kicking her in the stomach and ripping the spear right back before she could tighten her grip. He spun it around his head and cracked her in the jaw with the weapon, buying enough time to yell back. “_ WHAAAAT?!” _

“I _ SAID, _ " Thor was pulling something out of his pocket and drawing back his arm to throw. “ _ WILL YOU MARRY ME?” _The prince whipped his arm forward and threw what he had in his hand. 

Steve ran toward Hela and jumped, launching himself over her head before her weapons could hit him. He opened his hand, turning his body in mid-air. The ring smacked perfectly into his palm, and he landed on his feet, facing Hela as she turned around. She lifted her hands, but he was faster, spurred on by a sudden burst of strength as he slid the ring onto his finger and punched her in the face. This time, she did more than stumble. The goddess of death went flying, and Steve stood there panting and grinning with satisfaction. They would hold out a little longer. He risked a glance behind him. 

The connection he’d started to feel returning had solidified. Steve could feel a familiar godly power flowing up his arm, humming a welcoming tune, guiding him to the bridge where Thor awaited on the other side. It wasn’t as strong as what Mjolnir had given them, but it was something. 

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Thor smirked slyly, extremely proud of himself as he came over. So he should be. 

“Yeah, course,” Steve laughed, picking up his shield and taking his stance. Not before glancing at Thor’s own hand, though. There was a matching silver band right there on his finger, subtle but absolutely not at the very same time. 

A punch wouldn’t be enough to defeat the goddess of death, but it had definitely rumpled her. She didn’t take long to recover at all, discarding all her cocky swagger in favor of sheer anger. These pests just wouldn’t _ die. _With a little extra strength, the pests attacked again together. 

“You cannot defeat me,” Hela growled, stabbing and slicing for them. “I have spent too long on Asgard’s soil. You think _ love _ will protect you? Even love cannot win over death, no matter how powerful you may think it is.” 

Neither of them expected to win with love. But with trust and reliance in each other, they did expect to last just a few more minutes. They stayed close, protecting each other as they always had, _ strengthening _each other as they had for just as long. They did their best, but Hela eventually got the upper hand, finding her opening and ripping her way past their defenses. She grabbed Steve by his shield harness and threw him toward her brother. Thor didn’t budge, catching Steve’s body as it smashed into him. Steve lifted his shield to protect them both from her barrage of blades, holding it over both of their heads as he got his feet under him. The goddess of death flew forward and grabbed the disk, twisting it out of Steve’s grasp with such ferocity he had to let go lest she break his wrists. 

Hela flung the shield aside and kicked Steve in the stomach hard enough to knock both men to the ground with the force of it. “Pathetic,” she spat, yanking Steve out of Thor’s grip and throwing him far across the hall. “I will kill him first, brother, and you can watch him die, slowly. I will take both his eyes, and make him listen as your scream for him.” She was bringing up her hand to skewer the Captain. Steve pushed his legs under him and forced his body to move. He wasn’t finished yet. 

Before Thor could shout in protest, before Hela could start to walk toward the Captain, the goddess stopped dead in her tracks, her expression twisting with pain and surprise. She turned, and Steve caught sight of a knife buried deep in her back. _ Took you long enough. _

“I thought I killed you,” Hela hissed. The knife wouldn’t stop her. She spread her hands. 

Loki stared calmly at her, ever imposing and in control. “I am Loki Friggasson,” he said calmly, a skull in one hand, and a flame in the other. “And I die on my own terms. Catch.” 

He threw the skull, and she did catch it, too surprised to think about the action. Loki hurled the flame after it, and it embodied the skull, lightning up the eyes. Immediately, the ground began to rumble. Hela dropped the skull, but it rose off the ground, a body growing from underneath. It stood, unfolded molten arms and drew a blade from its back. In a matter of seconds, the creature had filled the hall, its limbs brushing the edges and scorching them. 

This was the beast from Thor’s dream. Steve kept back, watching wide-eyed as Surtur drew his sword and aimed it straight for Hela. _ Now! _

Loki produced the tesseract in his hand and opened the portal, dropping both Hela and the fire demon at once into the realm Thor had first ventured to defeat Surtur. The portal closed, sealing away the sounds of crackling fire and a vengeful scream. 

Thor collapsed back, spent. The thunderstorm churning inside the hall crackled and died, and the glow around his body faded. Steve pushed to his feet and ran over, collapsing under his own weary legs at the prince’s side, frantically searching. To his relief, the demigod hadn’t taken any more damage. The Captain sighed and settled, panting. 

Thor turned his head to look at him, weary but proud. “I think I could sleep for a thousand years.” 

Steve chuckled and winced, turning onto his back and settling beside his partner. “Yeah, me too.” Thor’s hand slipped under his, weaving their fingers together. The cold floor against him felt good. Maybe he could stay here for a minute or two... 

“Get up.” Loki stood over them disapprovingly, arms folded. 

“Can we just lie here for a minute,” Steve whined. “You took your sweet time.” 

The god glared at him, but there was no real anger in it. “Perhaps we should have traded places then, Captain. Come on. The people need to know they can return.” 

“Then go let them know,” Steve gave him a little wave. “You’re the king, right?” 

“You cannot sleep on the floor.” 

Yeah, they probably shouldn’t. Steve relented and rolled over so he could help Thor off the floor and get him standing. The god was swaying, burnt out. Steve supported his blind side. 

Loki scanned both of them, softening. “Go rest. I won’t be long.” 

Steve smiled and nodded. A nap wouldn’t go amiss. 


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. fixed the images, so there's art in the previous chapter!  
2\. there's sex in this chapter, but it's brief and pretty vague. No graphic descriptions. I've never written anything this spicy before, so... there you go.

Hela’s impeccably sharp blade had left a clean cut. The wound should heal nicely, though it would be sore for a while. Steve could already feel that this one would be slow to heal, even with the serum and whatever the  eir were putting on it. They were doing whatever they could for him, and he sat patiently in their ward as they muttered spells and rubbed medicines into his skin.

“I cannot do any more for you,” the healer explained regretfully, her eyebrows sympathetically upturned instead of neutral as Steve had always encountered her. Her colleague held is arm while she wrapped his shoulder.

“It’s more than enough,” Steve smiled. It was more than he’d get in the tower, at least. More than Earth could give him. Asgardian magic would ease away the pain. Their remedies were strong enough that even the serum couldn’t burn through it. “Thank you.”

The stoic woman gave him a small smile, handing over his shirt. “Likewise.” She helped him get dressed, and though he could have managed on his own, he didn’t mind. She pushed his arm to his chest and tied him a sling. “Be careful,” she ordered. “Rest it.”

He would. Steve had no intention of doing anything  _ but _ rest. He’d earned it.

Folding his uniform top and helmet under his arm, he took his leave. Steve walked through the bustling corridors of the palace, and it felt a little like home. The people he passed were friendly, giving him small nods and smiles full of gratefulness. He nodded back, returning their sentiments given in passing.

Thor’s room wasn’t far. Steve remembered the way. He opened the door and peered inside. The healers were still there, so he leaned in the doorway to wait, twisting the ring on his finger. It was inscribed with symbols he remembered from Mjolnir, and an unfamiliar word that he knew was written in Thor’s native language, but that he could not read. It was beautiful.  _ You beat me to it, huh. Not sure I could have thought of something better anyway.  _ It was fitting.  _ Just like Tony said. Nothing conventional about this at all.  _ And that was just fine.

The healers were finished, leaving for the door and giving Steve respectful nods as they passed. He returned them and entered, shutting the door behind him. The second they were gone he hurried to the bed, dropping his things on a table as he passed. His shield was already in the room, clean and resting in a chair by the bed. Thor was propped up and dressed in a cream shirt, looking a second away from dozing off, the blood cleaned off his face and his eye bandaged. He looked over as Steve approached, immediately more awake and grinning like a child on his birthday. Steve beamed back and sat on the edge of the bed, unable to get his boots off fast enough.

They were both rolling words around inside their heads, but neither of them could string a sentence together. That was fine. They got enough across with just stares and smiles of relief and satisfaction. Steve clambered onto the huge bed and leaned over Thor’s body, going straight for a kiss. The god leaned up to meet him, slinging an arm around his neck to bring him down. The Captain held himself up with his good arm, but it was quickly turning to jelly along with the rest of him as Thor’s mouth somehow managed to be both inside of and around his at once. It was so good, the period marking the end of a great battle that had been months long.

Ragnarok was over.  _ The end of the Allfather, the end of Asgard. As we knew it, at least. _

“We did it,” Steve pulled back long enough to say that. He could hardly believe it himself, and waited desperately for Thor to affirm it.

“We did,” the prince replied softly. Steve wiped his eyes. His chest felt tight, and his throat was trapping back anything else he’d wanted to say. Thor clasped his cheeks worriedly. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothin,” Steve hitched, sniffing. “ Nothin ’, just... it’s over. Everybody got out. And...” he held up his hand, the ring still proudly on his finger. “Got everything I wanted. More than I ever thought I’d get.” The tears that escaped his eyes were happy ones. He’d never felt happier.

Thor’s eye was welling up too. He brought Steve’s face close and kissed his eyes one at a time, then pressed another to his lips. “I have been waiting months for this moment,” he pulled Steve against him and hugged him tightly. “For a moment I feared I had been robbed the chance, but you found me and brought me back. And you’re here now. You saved me yet again, Captain.”

“It’s okay, you paid me back,” Steve chuckled wetly, adjusting a little to get comfortable, nuzzling his head under Thor’s chin. Neither of them were keen to move, but they worked the blankets down together so Steve could pull them over them both. “I think we’re even.”

Thor nodded, swallowing roughly. He rubbed his hand up and down Steve’s back, working his fingers in circles. “Your shoulder...”

“Ah, it’ll be fine,” Steve smiled. “Got some magic for it. Doesn’t hurt.”

“Good,” Thor kissed his hair.

“Your eye?”

“It doesn’t hurt either,” Thor promised sincerely, working his foot between Steve’s legs and tangling them up. He yawned loudly and licked his lips, his arms going slack and his breathing deepening. Steve shut his eyes and sank deeply into the demi-god's chest, happier than he had ever felt, and knowing that in the near future, he would be happier still.

“Hey... what does the ring say?” Steve frowned and opened his eyes.

“It says ‘together’,” Thor murmured.

Steve smiled and shut his eyes again. He couldn’t wait to wake up and walk into this new world, where he had  everything he’d never imagined he could have. They fell asleep in moments, and it was maybe the best sleep either of them had ever had. Neither of them dreamed, not of  Ragnarok , not of lost friends, not of past trauma. They just slept, woven together as always.

\--

The kingdom was back to functioning normally in a matter of days. Thor did his best to help, but between the  eir , Loki, and Steve, he didn’t spend much of his time anywhere but bed. He was tired, and there was no hiding it. The rest he got, he needed. Steve was happy to stay with him and relax too, lounging in Asgardian clothing that was just as comfortable as always.

It was time to go home, and Thor couldn’t be happier. The  eir could do no more for him, and so advised that he could leave. His eye was a little better healed, and not so sore, but Steve had a feeling it still had to be aching pretty badly. His own shoulder was healing so much slower than it should be. It would likely scar.

“Come on,” Steve stood in the doorway, his shield harness looped over his good shoulder, his helmet under one arm, and his uniform top hanging open. “Let’s go.”

Thor pulled on his jacket and gently pulled the items out of Steve’s hands, strapping the shield to his own back and tucking the helmet under his arm, wrapping his hand around his Captain’s free one. There was an easy smile on his face, his shoulders lose and his eyes bright.

Loki was waiting for them at the bi-frost, waiting calmly by the portal. “I presume you’ll be back,” he remarked.

“Of course,” Thor agreed. “We won’t be too long.”

“Take your time,” Loki sent them off with a wave of his hand.

There was more to be said, but now was not the time. Neither brother seemed to know what to say, staring awkwardly at each other as Steve gently nudged Thor toward the portal.

It felt like he’d been away longer when they arrived on top of the tower, beneath a setting sun. A cool breeze was dragging a few fluffy clouds across the sky. Steve smiled up at Thor. The demi-god was peering at the sky, his head tilted and his expression peaceful.

“Come on,” the Captain gave his hand a tug. “Everybody missed you.”

They jogged inside, eager to be reunited with the team. Clint was at the counter with Bruce, making some pasta while the doctor studied a pad, but they both looked up as the elevator opened and their two teammates walked in.

“JARVIS, get the others,” Clint ordered, abandoning his dinner and running over. “You’re back-!” Thor wrapped the archer in a huge hug, lifting him off the ground and squeezing him tightly.

“My friends!” he announced. “I missed you.”

“Yup, us too,” Clint  squeaked .

Bruce wandered over, observant eyes immediately noticing the matching rings and giving a knowing smile. He didn’t mention them, glancing instead between the couple’s healing injuries. “Looks like the two of you had fun while you were gone. You’ll have to tell us about it.”

Steve chuckled, accepting a hug from Clint and watching as Thor offered one to the doctor. To his surprise, Bruce actually went for it, submitting himself to the demi-god's enthusiastic embrace.

“Thor!” Tony raced out the elevator, covered in grease and barefoot. “Steve!” he ran over and launched himself at the Captain, squeezing him tightly. Steve laughed and hugged back. The second he let go, Thor was plucking the engineer from his arms and hugging him too, lifting the much smaller man off his feet.

Natasha wasn’t far behind, ever graceful but covering the distance between them with deceptive speed. She wrapped her arms around Steve’s neck and kissed his cheek with relief. Thor gave her a strong hug as well, no less boisterous with her than the others. She calmly accepted his gesture, squeezing him back. “Welcome home, boys. Looking a little worse for wear, I must say.”

“Either there was one hell of a fight, or you guys had some incredible sex,” Tony put up his hands. “If it’s the second, I don’t want to know.  And... son of a bitch, you did it.” The inventor grinned and held up Steve’s hand to inspect the ring there.

“Actually...” Steve glanced bashfully at Thor. “Beat me to it.”

Tony opened his mouth, but the demigod was flushing with pleasure. “Do not tell me you had something arranged.”

Steve shrugged guiltily. “Maybe...”

Thor laughed, a deeper shade of red than Steve had ever seen him. He clapped Steve gregariously on the back. “I apologize, I’m certain yours would have been better.”

“No,” Steve shook his head, grinning widely. “No no, not at all. Better than I could have done. I hadn’t even come up with an idea.”

“This calls for a celebration,” Tony spun on his heel and spun his finger in a circle over his head. “JARVIS, put the usual order into the pizza place down the road. Clint, break out the beers.”

“We’re all invited, right?” Clint rushed to the fridge.

“Of course,” Steve chuckled.

“Congratulations,” Bruce smiled warmly.

“Took you guys long enough,” Natasha quirked an eyebrow. “Come sit.”

They did, settling into their usual spot on the couch while the other arranged the chairs. Thor was about to pull Steve into his lap when two more people stepped out of the elevator.

“Steve!” Sam ran over, and the Captain launched up to give his friend a hug. “You’re back! You too,” the man gave Thor a friendly wave.

“How has everything been?” Steve asked.

“You mean Bucky?” his fellow soldier lifted an eyebrow and gave a knowing smile.

“I mean you too,” Steve replied.

“Well, I’m good,” Sam laughed. “So’s your pal. But he can tell you that himself.”

The next person to approach was Bucky himself, standing straighter and taller than before, one sleeve of his t-shirt empty. He looked even healthier than when Steve had left him only a few days before, his hair brushed and his expression a little friendlier and more open. He opened his arm and pulled Steve into a strong hug. “Glad you’re back.”

“Looks like you’ve been just fine without me,” Steve clasped his friend’s shoulder and looked him up and down. “How you been?”

“Just fine,” Bucky cast a brief smile at Sam, then peered over Steve at Thor. The assassin narrowed his eyes and looked the god up and down. Thor gave him a cheerful, friendly wave. “This your boyfriend?”

“Nope,” the Captain slyly held up his hand.

“Wow.” Bucky beamed brightly, his young face lighting up with sheer pride and joy. It quickly became a smirk as he cast his gaze back to Thor. “I  pitty you. But he’s your problem now. Good luck.”

“Aw Buck, don’t say that,” Steve laughed and threw himself onto his friend for another hug. “I’ll always be your problem.”

They watched a movie together, clustered tightly around the TV and a table full of food and drink. Thor pulled Steve into his lap and turned a little so he could see better with his one eye. When the film ended, nobody wanted to go to bed, so Thor happily stood up to recount the tale of their adventure, and Steve joined in. They left out the intimate details, and they left out Loki, focusing mainly on their grand battle against the goddess of death. Thor didn’t even mind sharing that she had destroyed Mjolnir, and it garnered even more awe from their friends that the couple had defeated someone so strong.

Everyone was very relieved to have their thunder god back, albeit an eye short. They said as much, and Thor soaked it all up, blushing faintly at his friends’ concern for him. They didn’t know how much he’d gone through, but Steve wondered if they could tell.

The night was pleasant, but it was time to be alone again. The pair bid their goodnights and started on their way back to their suite. Thor walked leisurely down the hallways, taking in the details as if he’d been gone for years. Nothing had changed.

“Your friend,” the demigod mentioned. “He is loyal and brave. Perhaps we will get more of a chance to get to know each other. I’m glad he is improved.”

“You’ll like him,” Steve agreed.

They kept walking, until their door was right in front of them, waiting. It slid open and the lights came on JARVIS’s welcome. Thor walked in and set down Steve’s shield and helmet, gazing at the paintings, and giving his coffee machine an amused and fond little huff.

“Just the way we left it,” Steve smiled, brushing his fingers along the lounge chaise. Thor was turning on the coffee machine and pulling out a couple of mugs. The Captain placed a hand on his lower back. “Hey, go sit for a second, okay? Got  somethin ’ for  ya .”

“Alright,” Thor didn’t argue. He abandoned the brewing machine and sat obediently on the sofa, patiently waiting. Steve slipped into their bedroom, and found the box right where he’d left it, sat on the nightstand. He checked inside, and of course the rings were still there inside. Why wouldn’t they be?

Despite the ring already on his finger, he felt nervous. His gut twisted with anxiety and all the blood rushed to his face. It was stupid, really... Steve clutched the box, determined. He’d gone to all this trouble, and he’d told himself he would do this. His whole body trembled nervously as he approached the chair, more falling than kneeling. Thor watched him, eyes roaming from Steve’s to the box in his hand.

Steve pushed his thumb into the lid and pushed it open, suddenly unable to form any words. Thor was already nodding, leaning forward to kiss him. The demigod plucked the box from his palm and set it aside, breathing heavily with want and a glint in his eyes that brought back the tingle in the Captain’s spine. Thor was lifting him up by his uniform all of a sudden, pulling him off the floor fumbling with his jacket. Steve tried to help, caught up in that familiar desire he could never put a name to. He had no clue what he was doing, but Thor did.

Thor stilled him, hardly able to go a second without contact as he kept kissing, working his jacket off and throwing it aside. He flipped them, pushing Steve’s back into the chair and looming over him, pulling the sling over his head and helping him out of his uniform. Steve pulled up his shirt, letting Thor work it off the rest of the way as he went for the demigod’s own shirt.

“At ease, Captain, it’s not a race,” Thor breathed low.

“S-sorry,” Steve fumbled with the shirt, yanking it off the prince’s torso with shaking hands.  _ What am I  _ _ doing... _ Both of them were somehow going for their own pants and each other’s at the same time, getting tangled in each other. Thor grabbed his wrists, calm and in control, patiently moving his arms out of the way.

“Steady.” there was a bit of a growl in his voice, but not a threatening one. “Steady. Breathe, Steve.”

Steve tried, but it was hard to control himself when they were so close, approaching the realm he knew he’d been wanting. He just wasn’t sure how to get there. “Thor...” he groaned.

“What?” the prince paused, his hands stilling and holding. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve panted. “I just... don’t know what the hell is happening.”

“That much is clear,” Thor chuckled, lowering down to kiss his throat. “Relax. Unless this is unpleasant?”

“I... no, it’s good,” Steve gasped. “I just... I’ve never done... this.”

“Do you want to?” Thor looked him in the eyes, sincere and no less patient. He was clearly in desire of what he was going for, but Steve knew that if he said the word, the prince would stop. They would go as far as he was comfortable.

“Yes,” he answered a lot faster than he’d expected. “I don’t know what I want, but I want it.”

“Then breathe, and perhaps you will find out,” Thor kissed his lips possessively. “You’re hyperventilating.”

“Can’t help it,” Steve arched his back, longing to press himself against Thor’s strong torso. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“Hush,” Thor absorbed his bottom lip. “We will learn, together. Just let me do this for you.”

“I don’t know-”

“You will,” Thor insisted. “I will show you. And if you do not like any part of it, you say the word and it will end. But if you want this, then you must simply breathe. You trust me?”

“ Of course I do,” Steve stared with wide eyes. “Of course.” He could barely breathe, could barely do that one thing Thor was asking of him. But he would try. He licked his lips and tried to breathe a little deeper. “I want it.”

“Then you shall have it,” Thor smiled with a glint of deviousness in his eye. There was a crackle of light in his already-blue iris, electric power waiting there. And it was all Steve’s.

They didn’t spend long in the living room, quickly fumbling out of the rest of their clothes and launching for the bedroom. Thor practically threw him across the room and landed on top of him, impossibly careful at the same time. The blankets were ripped away. He had control, always, and he knew what he was doing. Steve didn’t tell him to stop. He didn’t know what was going on most of the time, but he liked it, and that was all that mattered. In a matter of moments, Thor made him forget the entire universe existed, giving him  sensations he could never have imagined a person could feel. For all the jokes Tony had made, he had never pictured  _ this. _ It was the sort of thing that couldn’t  _ be _ imagined, and could only be experienced.

Thor took care of him, top to bottom, with sure and caring hands. Steve was entirely at the mercy of his strength. He had never felt so warm and safe. It didn’t matter that he didn’t know what to do with his hands, he just let instinct take over. Where it failed, which was often, Thor filled in the gaps. They knew each other so well that there was never a moment of uncertainty, never a falter. Thor was strong and sure, but never too much. He was firm but gentle, guiding and aware. He was  _ always _ aware, in tune with every heartbeat, and every inch of muscle. And he played Steve with all the skill and practice of a musician.

They lay there in bed, panting and sweating, Steve staring wide-eyed at the ceiling. It was impossible to catch his breath, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to. Lying here totally taken care of and enlightened was just fine. 

Thor leaned over him, propped on one elbow, looking very pleased with himself. “You did very well,” he ran his fingers up Steve’s chest, brushing them across the muscle with admiration. The bandage on Steve's shoulder had long been displaced and ultimately discarded. Thor’s too, his sealed eye and the red line through his face fully visible. Neither of them cared. Pain no longer existed. “I expected as much.”

“Uh huh,” he couldn’t manage anything else. His brain couldn’t make words.

“I wanted this,” Thor murmured into his throat. “I was afraid you wouldn’t, that I might frighten or hurt you.”

“Never,” Steve managed that word.

“I wanted to give this to you for so long, to make you see what words could never express,” Thor worked his lips across Steve’s throat, up to his chin. “You are the most beautiful person I have ever met. You have suffered so much, lost so much, yet you are still so warm and bright. I could stand tall because of you. It was almost too much. It almost crushed me, but you were there. You gave me your strength, and took care of me.”

“Deserved it,” Steve heaved. “You deserve it. You gave me everything.”

Thor smiled, pushing up a little further. He turned Steve’s face toward his and kissed him. “So did you.”

They were home. Steve shut his eyes and took the kiss, opening his mouth for it. He felt loose and happy and completely at home, in this time, this building, and in his body. He’d felt that way for a while now, but never so much as this.

He’d caught his breath now, and Thor was looking him in the eyes, holding his head under the chin and rubbing his jaw with his fingers. “Do you want more?” his eyebrow leapt.

Steve didn’t answer so much as  shudder. Thor smirked at him, and obliged.

\--

They hadn’t slept much that night. Neither of them  were tired though.

Steve groaned and pushed off the covers, sitting naked on the edge of the bed and rubbing his eyes to clear them. It was very early. Thor rose with him, digging himself out from under the duvet and running his hands along Steve’s shoulders and up his neck, clasping his head and drawing it back. The ring on his finger was warm against Steve’s cheek.

The Captain leaned back his head for a kiss. “Mornin’.”

“Where are you going?” Thor murmured into his ear.

“Breakfast. I’m hungry. You worked up my appetite.” Steve still hadn’t recovered from last night. “And I think I know what to do with those rings.” He stood off the bed and turned, taking Thor’s face by either side and examining his eye. The cut still looked raw and  painful, the edges swollen.

Thor was lifting his hand, brushing his fingers carefully over Steve’s shoulder. “It will scar...”

“Yeah.” Steve looked down at it. His perfectly smooth skin would be marked permanently. He didn’t mind. It wouldn’t affect the use of his arm at all. “We’ll match.”

“That we will,” Thor leaned forward and kissed the healing mark. It too was still quite raw and tender.

They got dressed and ate together, and it felt different than it had the last time they’d done this. It felt more normal, as normal as maybe it ever would, a super-soldier centenarian and a thunder god having breakfast in Avengers’ tower.

Thor helped him get his sore arm into a t-shirt, tucking it into the sling and tying the ends behind his neck with tender hands. Steve grabbed the vibranium rings, and they went off to medical where Bruce and Tony were waiting. The prince furrowed his brow at the two scientists there to greet him.

“Sit,” Steve brought him into the room and patted the bed. Thor didn’t argue, hopping up with full trust but reasonable confusion. The Captain handed the rings to Tony, and the inventor pulled out a scanner.

“Okay big guy, just hold still a sec.” He turned on the device and waved it around Thor’s face. Blue light emitted from the end, and the demigod did his best not to squint as the inventor made a holographic model of his face on the screen in front of him. “JARVIS, get me the dimensions on that, and make me a prototype.” He took the rings, and walked out.

Thor turned to Steve for explanation, but the Captain just smiled at him. “Trust me, you’ll like it.”

“But until then, we should get something in that socket,” Bruce adjusted his glasses and pulled on some gloves. “I don’t know about the  Aesir , but if you leave a human eye socket empty, the skull can collapse. Do you mind...?”

“Not at all,” Thor turned and lay on his back so the doctor could  reach him. Bruce’s careful fingers palpated the cut and peeled apart the lids.

“I think we should let it heal a little more,” he resolved. “Then I’ve got this for you.” The doctor reached for the table and picked a small case off of it, opening it up to show a pearly glass orb pressed into foam.

Thor sat up and inspected it curiously. He smiled, and Steve wasn’t sure why, because it was only made of glass. It wouldn’t replace his actual eye. But the demigod was charmed and intrigued. It was rather adorable. He left the wing with a fresh bandage and a smile, a bounce in his step.

“Suits you,” Steve smiled. “Bit of asymmetry.”

“Are you saying I was too perfect  before?” Thor smirked.

“I’m just sayin’ it adds a little something,” Steve shrugged slyly. “And it’ll be even better when Tony’s done. You’ll like it, I promise.”

“I will take your word for it,” Thor squeezed the hand in his grasp. He sighed contentedly. “I suppose we should start planning.”

“I guess,” Steve chuckled, pink. “You got any ideas?”

“Some,” Thor agreed.

“Yeah, me too,” Steve paused in the corridor, and the prince stopped with him. They stood there in silence facing each other while the Captain thought about what he wanted to say. “I think... I think I don’t want to do this anymore.”

“Me neither.” The answer was no surprise, but it was a relief all the same. It came easily. Thor rubbed his thumb across Steve’s knuckles. “We will always be warriors, but I want a life beyond just the fight. I don’t want to worry for your safety, nor to have you worry for me. I don’t want you to be hurt and suffering, and I want purpose beyond awaiting the next enemy.”

“Me too,” Steve smiled sadly. “So... you’d leave?”

“With you, yes,” Thor squeezed his hand. “Where would we go?”

“We could go anywhere.”

“How about... Canada?” the demigod mused for a moment. “I would quite like to see the mountains there.”

“We could go there,” Steve agreed, smiling widely. “Anywhere. Italy. Haven’t been since the war.”

“England. We explored so little of it last we visited.”

“Done,” Steve agreed.

The details didn’t matter just yet. The others would help. It was freeing, the very thought of never having to put on his uniform again if he didn’t want  to. No more crazy missions or near-death experiences. No more wondering if he would make it out alive, or worrying whether Thor would. No more pain beyond what normal people faced, with nothing to relieve him of it. No more Captain America.

Well, Captain America would always be there. It wasn’t a suit or a title or a shield he could drop, it was an embodiment of everything he cared about, and would always uphold. Just... not on the battlefield. That was a lot easier to come to terms with than he’d thought.  Of course he’d already considered it heavily, been given the clear by Tony, but it was still strikingly liberating to say it out loud.

Steve left behind the fight, knowing without a doubt that he wouldn’t long for it.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do have full-body artwork of the outfits once again! Unfortunately I hate it, so I'll upload it later when it's fixed, preferably with the next chapter but we'll see!  
Tony finally gets to go to Asgard, yay!

“Okay, are you ready?” Steve was holding up the glass eye.

Yes, he was. Thor held still and shut his other eye. The Captain carefully pulled apart his scarred eyelids and pushed the glass orb into the empty socket. The procedure was a little uncomfortable, but having something to fill the gap was much preferred. He opened his good eye and Tony leaned over him proudly. The inventor carefully slotted the  vibranium patch into the socket. It fit perfectly, comfortably pressed against his skin. He sat up, and Tony handed him a mirror. His friends awaited his reaction as he inspected it, turning his head to either side. The scar was prominent, but he liked the patch. Steve was right, it  _ did _ suit him. He smiled.

“I can make it any color you like,” Tony offered proudly.

“It’s already perfect,” Thor handed the mirror back and hopped off the examination table. 

“Looks good,” Steve agreed. “How does  it feel?”

“Comfortable,” he confirmed.

“Are we ready to go, then?” Tony perked up. He’d been jittery since the announcement that the ceremony would be held on Asgard.

“I think so,” Thor turned to Steve for confirmation. He received a nod.

Everyone was waiting for them in the common room, ready to depart for the roof where the bi-frost would deliver them to  Asgard . Pepper was there, lounged on the couch with Natasha. Bruce was lazily scrolling through his phone, and Sam, Clint, and Bucky were stood around the counter chatting. Somewhere amidst these past couple of weeks spent healing and planning, Bucky had gotten a brand-new arm. Thor had found the chance to enjoy a bit of time with Steve’s old friend, and he liked him. 

Pepper noticed their arrival first, and the others weren’t far behind. Everyone was excited. So was Thor. He couldn’t wait to bring his friends to his kingdom, and he couldn’t wait to leave it as a married man. It wasn’t something he’d thought much of, marriage. It had always been the given that someday he would ascend to the throne and take a queen with him. Even when he’d met Steve and their relationship had progressed, he hadn’t considered that they could go this far for a very long time. Too long.

But they were here now, standing atop the tower in a tight cluster. Thor pulled Steve against him, smiling perhaps a little slyly. “I would hold onto something.” The bi-frost plucked them off the ground and carried them into the sky.

\--

Thor was a pillar of confidence, a symbol of strength. He didn’t feel it. 

“I said it to Steve, and I’ll say it to you,” Tony folded his arms resolutely over his chest. “If you weren’t  scared, I’d be worried.”

He wasn’t scared... Steve had already said yes. They were already here, getting ready. There was no turning back. His legs were trembling. Alright, maybe he was just the slightest bit nervous...

“I  gotta say, you guys know how to accessorize.” The inventor adjusted Thor’s cape, smoothing it over his shoulder. “You sure know how to throw a party, too. Good thing  ol ’ dad had a change of heart.”

Thor chuckled to himself. “Yes, it is.”

“Well, you look great.  So get out there,” Tony nudged his thumb at the door. “I  gotta go check on Spangles, make sure he hasn’t passed out.”

“Tony...” Thor stopped him, taking the inventor by the arm. “Thank you. For taking care of him, and of me.”

“Hey, I got a pretty cool vacation out of it,” Tony chuckled, patting Thor’s arm. “You’re welcome. Now come on. Crowd’s waiting.”

Thor found his strength and stood tall in his ceremonial armor. He watched Tony go and stood by himself in silence, taking a few deep breaths. He was ready.

The hall was filled with people, waiting for their prince. Loki stood proudly at the throne in Odin’s body,  Gungnir in his hand, Heimdall and Sif on either side. Thor approached, his red cape fluttering out behind him as he moved with long and purposeful strides. This was not the first time he had been the center of so much attention, but it was the first time he felt nervous. He knelt before the throne at Loki’s feet, and his brother gently rested his staff across his shoulder.

“You have served this kingdom for many centuries,” Loki’s voice filled the chamber, and it was just as warm as the golden light all around. “You have fought bravely and tirelessly against many foes, and you have grown from a boy into a man before my very eyes. I am proud of what you have become, as I know your mother would be. Rise.”

He did, and to his relief his legs obeyed. He caught a glimmer of his brother though the mask, the faintest of amused smiles staring down at him as he straightened. The prince turned, and there was Steve, all the way at the other end of the hall, clad in blue and white with flashes of scarlet, Tony on his arm to guide him. Somehow, Steve looked calm and collected. Or maybe that was just his Captain’s face.

The gold light lit Steve’s hair a bright honey color, casting a halo around his shoulders. It gave his skin an ethereal glow as it bounced off his armor and caressed his face. Thor would rest his case: a cape was a good look. Perhaps not the most practical battle-wear, but for accessorizing purposes it served the Captain’s broad shoulders well. It would never cease to amaze him how well Steve fit in here. Perhaps if Asgard hadn’t become so full of sour memories, they could have lived here happily. The people liked Steve, too. That helped.

Steve walked up to the platform and pulled away from Tony, opening his hands. He was shaking, and Thor squeezed his hands tightly to still them, even though he wasn’t in any better shape. Loki was speaking again, and he almost forgot to listen.

“Steven has proven himself worthy countless times over. I am proud to welcome him into this family, and this kingdom.”

A  thousands suns cast their glow of approval through the ornate windows. All of space cradling this island floating in the middle of it ordained them. Loki was talking, but he hadn’t heard a word. Steve was staring at him expectantly, his eyes bright with tears. Thor stared back, utterly lost. That was alright. The soldier had been paying attention, lifting an eyebrow at the prince’s lost expression. Steve grabbed him by the strap of his armor and pulled him down for a kiss.

It was sealed. People were cheering, rising from their seats.  _ The party... _ He’d almost forgotten. He’d left it to Loki, knowing his brother had much more the flare for performance than himself. Loki had taken after his mother that way...

She should be here, but he knew she was watching, and that she was proud. “Come on,” Thor tugged his lips away and pulled Steve after him. The silence had rapidly been replaced with music, Asgardian musicians adapting the couple’s favorite music into their native instruments. The floor was cleared, people flooding the floor to dance and celebrate. And Thor eagerly brought Steve right to the middle, unable to contain his excitement.

Steve wiped his eyes, happily sliding straight into the dance. They’d done this so many times that it was effortless to find their rhythm.

“You’ve gotten very good at this,” Thor commented. Steve was relaxed, not thinking too much about his movements, which had always been his downfall. His hands were comfortably rested in Thor’s.

“I had a good teacher,” the Captain quirked an eyebrow. “And lots of practice. Remember the first time we did this?”

“You were terrible,” Thor admitted, spinning Steve under his arm with a teasing chuckle.

“Oh yeah?” Steve came around and leaned backward, pulling Thor down with him and wrapping an arm around his waist. “Well then I’m breaking up with you.”

“Can’t,” Thor brought up their laced fingers so he could wiggle his, showing off the ring. “You’re mine now.”

“Steady, there are people around,” Steve smirked, bending farther back so Thor couldn’t kiss him. “ Nuh -uh, not after what you said.”

“You were terrible, but quite adorable,” the prince straightened him easily and whipped them around in a circle.

“I’ll take it,” Steve’s lips tugged upward in a half-smile.

Thor was opening his mouth to make a remark on that particular comment, but he was cut off by Bucky’s approach. “Steve! Since when did you not have two left feet!” The assassin was dressed in dark blues with silver trim. He jammed his finger at Thor’s chest. “What did you do to him?”

“Ease up, Buck,” Steve chuckled, slowing their dance to address his friend and admire his outfit.

A hand landed on Thor’s shoulder, and he turned to see Odin there. “Might I have a moment with my son?”

“Of course,” Steve smiled cheerfully, offering Thor a kiss before turning knowingly away. “Come on Buck, I’ll teach you some of these dances.”

Loki slipped him from the party, taking him outside into the quiet afternoon sun. He let Odin’s form bleed away as he took his brother under the great tree in the courtyard. Thor watched him curiously. Loki clasped his hands behind him and rocked on his heels, strangely hesitant. He licked his lips. “I meant every word I said,” he spoke quietly. “That I was proud of the man my brother had become, especially in these few short years. And... I am sorry.”

“You need not be,” Thor smiled. “I am sorry for how Father treated you, and for not realizing my own mistakes sooner.”

“Come here, you oaf,” Loki was opening his arms, to Thor’s surprise, opening himself for a hug. Thor launched into it readily, squeezing his brother tightly, who  squeezed back too.

“I love you very much,” Thor sighed contentedly. “And I would be proud to leave this kingdom in your capable hands.” He pulled away and gripped his brother by the shoulders. “You were always more fit for the throne than me.”

A flash of pride and surprise passed over his brother’s expression. He quickly recovered, straightening, though the glow of pleasure never left. “I brought you here to give you your wedding gifts,” he explained. “Come.”

Thor obeyed, following his brother around the castle to the stables. Loki brought him to the first pair of stalls. “Father’s proudest stallions,” he explained. “Apart from  Sleipnir , of course. That one is mine. But you should have these.”

Odin had always loved his horses. So had Loki. The younger brother had spent plenty of time in the stables, a place of peace. Thor smiled and reached out his hands. The horses were well-acquainted with him, calmly pressing their velvety noses into his palms. There was Ares, almost as large as a draft, but gentler than any horse Thor had ever encountered. The stallion was a gorgeous stormy grey with white splotches and a dark mane. He was calm and obedient. His friend, however, was a little more on the feisty side, but a loyal companion none-the-less. Midnight’s coat was a luscious, perfect black.

Loki was pulling out another object, a small box carved of wood and decorated with gold trim. His brother opened the lid to reveal an ornate blade resting in red silk, the hilt decorated with silver and gold, and the blade engraved with Asgardian text. “Mother was going to give this to you on your wedding day,” Loki held it out. “It’s inscribed with a blessing for safety and happiness.”

Thor read the words as he lifted the dagger out of the box and balanced it carefully in his hands. It was light, and very sharp, not dulled at all despite how old it had to be. He set it back in the box. “I miss her,” he whispered.

“Me too,” Loki blinked his eyes clear. “She’s proud of you.”

“She’s proud of you, too,” Thor wiped his eyes. He wished she were here to see how far they’d come, but he knew she was watching from her place in the stars.

“Come on,” Loki was shaking his head and recovering. “I have yet to give you my gift.”

Thor swallowed and followed his brother out of the stables and into the courtyard. There calmly perusing the plants in the sunlight, was a  pegasus . It ruffled its wings and bent its head to nibble some flowers close to the soil, but it looked up when it spotted their approach. It trotted hesitantly over, pushing its nose into Loki’s hand and eying Thor cautiously.

“He’s young,” Loki explained gently. “And nervous. Go on, Charlie. He won’t hurt you.”

“You named him Charlie?” Thor lifted an eyebrow, entranced by the creature as he opened his hand slowly. Charlie blinked his big brown eyes at the prince and slowly took a step forward, spreading his wings a little. He lowered his head and perked his ears, tickling Thor’s hand with his whiskers and snorting a few breaths before finally making contact. His eyes never left Thor’s, but his shoulders settled and he tucked his wings back in, coming a step closer. Charlie pulled his nose away and pushing it into Thor’s ear, rubbing curiously. The hot breath tickled.

“Mock it all you like, but it fits,” Loki gave a mild scoff as he watched. 

“I never said it didn’t,” Thor chuckled, rubbing his hand down the pegasus’ strong neck. “I love him. Thank you.”

“Go back to your friends,” Loki shooed him, and amused smile on his face. “It’s your wedding. You can’t miss too much of it.”

“And you?”

Loki’s smile turned malevolent, but it was gone as quickly as  Odin’s form replaced his. “I would quite like to meet your friends myself. I should meet my son’s family.”

“That you should,” Thor laughed. “But be nice to them.”

“I make no promises.”

The party was still in full-swing. People were dancing all throughout the hall. He immediately spotted Steve, his bright blue cape swirling around his body as he tried to help Tony through a formal Asgardian dance. Bucky and Sam were watching side-by-side, offering pointers. Natasha was eating in silence with Bruce and Clint, her amusement clear in her expression. Pepper was offering words of encouragement.

“It’s like this... and then there... no, that foot there...” Steve was clearly struggling.

“I told you he has two left feet,” Bucky nodded knowingly.

“No, Steve, I think it was the other way  round ,” Tony corrected. “Pep, come here, I’ve got the hang of this.” 

Trust the suave inventor to pick up on the dance immediately. He pulled away from his friend and opened his arms for Pepper. They were a beautiful couple, dressed in matching greys and reds. Steve flushed in embarrassment as his friend easily slipped into the movements of the dance.

“Don’t sweat it, man,” Sam patted him sympathetically on the shoulder. “You tried.”

“ Oh hey guys, you’re back,” Clint noticed first. “Having some father-son bonding time?”

“More or less,” Thor smiled, beckoning Steve to him. The soldier slumped over and took his hand.

“Just  gonna say,” Tony let go of Pepper and put up his hands, “that he offered to embarrass himself. There was no peer pressure from any of us what-so-ever. Anyway, good to meet the old man.” The inventor opened his hand for Odin to shake.

Loki accepted it, and Thor knew his brother was laughing under his disguise. “Is this small man your companion?”

“This is Tony, one of Earth’s bravest, cleverest warriors,” Thor interjected before Tony could protest. “He is a genius among his people. He can fix any machine. He made me this,” the demigod tapped his eyepatch.

“That would explain why it looks so hideous,” Loki mused calmly.

“Steve, I don’t like your in-laws,” Tony turned to the Captain.

“You should have met Hela,” Steve replied good-naturedly, and Thor nodded gravely. 

“If we’re your family, that makes them your in-laws too,” Natasha interjected. “Which means maybe we should be nice to him. I’d like to see you throw a party better than this.”

Tony scoffed and looked around. “I could do the lights better, but yeah, it’s pretty nice. I’m keeping this shirt, by the way.”

“By all means,” Thor chuckled. “I live in a castle made of gold.”

“ Oooh , boy,” Clint whistled. “Come on, Tash, let ‘ em flex. I  gotta find me some Asgardian liquor.”

“I’ll make sure he doesn’t kill himself,” Natasha sighed and gave Steve’s cheek a kiss, following her friend off into the crowd.

“Maybe I should stick with them,” Bruce agreed, hurrying after the friends who had been providing him a buffer just in case the crowds were too much. So far, the doctor seemed to be enjoying himself. Good. Thor was glad his friends were here, having fun.

“Anyway, great party big man. You better be nice to our Captain, or I’ll nuke you to Saturn,” Tony looped his arm through  Pepper’s arm and marched away. Thor and Loki exchanged brief glances. Steve chuckled to himself.

The party lasted hours, and everyone danced with everyone. Thor didn’t mind sharing, not when he saw how happy Steve was as he laughed and spun around the dance floor with Natasha. She was a natural. Even Sif joined in, offering Steve a dance. Thor did his best to keep his human friends out of the Asgardian liquor, but Clint ended up taking a sip or two, and was immediately wasted. Thor asked Sif to carry him to his guest quarters, assuring Bruce that he would be alright with some sleep and a little bit of tea. The doctor was happy to go with the  eir and observe their practices, too worn out to party any longer, but always interested to learn.

Sam was the next to go down, accidentally taking a sip from his super-soldier companions’ drinks. Bucky calmly set aside his own drink, unaffected by the alcohol, and hoisted his friend over his shoulder. He carried him off to bed, and the festivities continued.

The music slowed gradually into the evening, and Steve ended up back in Thor’s arms, a little pink with drink, settling into a slow dance. His head tipped into Thor’s shoulder, and he sighed contentedly, following the prince’s guidance. They were one of the last to leave, Steve’s eyelids finally falling shut and his body sinking farther into Thor’s as he fell asleep. 

Thor scooped him off the floor, carrying Steve’s slumbering form out of the hall and into his bedroom. They were alone again, finally, the sounds of music and chatter far away. The prince set Steve on his bed and started to undress him, pulling off the ceremonial Asgardian armor and unfastening the cape. He quickly got rid of his own armor and dressed them both in some loose pants. Then he crawled across the covers and knelt over Steve’s body, brushing the scar on his shoulder and leaning down to kiss his lips.

Steve kissed back, blinking his eyes open. They were hazy with pleasure. “S’good party,” he smiled.

“My brother knows how to throw one,” Thor smiled back, lowering himself and pressing their chests together. He turned to his side and Steve followed, wrapping Thor in his arms and legs while the prince worked the blankets from under them and tucked them both in. 

“Know how to show... show a guy a good time,” Steve sighed and nuzzled closer.

“I am a prince from outer-space,” Thor kissed the Captain’s forehead. “I should think so.”

“What about me?” Steve peered up cheekily. “ M’just a kid from Brooklyn. Can’t put on a show?”

“You held back the goddess of death,” Thor replied easily, rubbing his thumb into the scar in Steve’s back. “An impressive feat, one befitting of your origins.”

“Yeah?” Steve smiled, closing his eyes again, his breathing deepening.

“Very impressive,” Thor agreed, pulling Steve’s head into his shoulder. He was asleep only second behind.

\--

It was time to leave. They had places to be. Loki came to their room to say goodbye as they were packing.

“We’ll come visit,” Thor promised, giving his brother a big hug.

“Not too often, I hope,” Loki replied, patting the prince on the back.

“Good luck,” Steve offered his hand for the king to shake, and Loki actually took it, returning the gesture firmly.

“You as well, Steve.”

“Oh, I think we’ll be fine,” the soldier smiled up at Thor. Yes, they would be.

Everyone was waiting at the bi-frost. Heimdall opened the portal, and Odin stood by to bid them farewell, Sif at his side.  Asgard would be fine in their capable hands. Thor had no bother leaving it with them. Loki would make a good king. The prince wrapped his hand around Steve’s and followed his friends back to Earth where the afterparty awaited.

They held a small ceremony in the tower, over pizza and beer and many gifts. Natasha had found them a record player, along with a large collection of records full of good dancing music. Steve was elated, a distant look in his eyes at the sight of it. He loved it.

Clint was quite the handy-man, and had started building them furniture the second he found out they were together. Everything was apparently loaded into a truck already, which was headed to a destination Tony was yet to reveal.

The inventor pulled out his first gift, a folder full of plane tickets and schedules, times and destinations marked out in a clear list. A year-long, world-wide trip was entirely planned and paid for.

“I don’t know if honey-mooning is a thing on Asgard, but whatever,” Tony leaned back, very proud of himself, and rightly-so. “You leave in a week.”

Thor had a feeling his Captain had a hand in this as he flipped through a notebook full of destinations. It was enough to well him up. 

“Don’t get all teary on me just yet, I’m not done,” Tony held up a finger. “Come on. One last thing. Everybody on the jet.”

There were a lot of them, but they all fit, piling curiously onto the  quinjet . They flew over the city and off into the countryside, a good hour’s ride. When they landed, and the door opened, they were in a field. Thor walked out into the sunlight, standing a few paces from the jet. Steve came to meet him, and they stared at the house in front of them. It was big, big enough to fit plenty of guests, and surrounded by farmland.

“It’s off-grid,” Tony explained, putting on a pair of sunglasses and standing proudly in front of them. “Needs a bit of fixing up, but I figured two strong guys wouldn’t have any trouble doing some work around here. Clint said he’d help. When you get back from your trip, we’ll all come  round to help you get it fixed up. I’ll put you on your own power generator with arc reactor tech. You’ll be set. There’s a town half-an-hour by car in that direction. Oh, and I made this landing pad so we can come visit.”

They all looked at the flat gravel space at their feet.

“It’s totally off the books,” Tony continued. “And if anyone decides to look it up, they’ll find it registered to Grant and Roger Thorn.”

Steve was  speechless , and frankly so was Thor. 

The inventor laughed. “Come on, come have a look inside.”

They did. The house was huge, quaint and spacious. It could definitely use some work, but Thor could already feel a homey warmth from the creaky wood floors and white-framed windows. With some TLC and hard work, they could clean this place up and make it theirs.

“It’s perfect,” Steve caressed the countertops.

“Bit of granite, and it will be,” Tony agreed. “ You’re welcome.”

“We’ll miss you.” Steve turned to his friends.

“You’ll see us lots,” Natasha retorted. “You’re not getting away from us that easily.”

Thor grinned. He wouldn’t dream of it. This house was too big not to open its doors. And he would miss his friends, too. It would be good to share a life with them that didn’t entirely revolve around work.

Of course, they would always be available. Steve was keeping his uniform in the dresser Clint had made them. And when Thor got his new weapon, he would put it in there too. And if Tony ever needed them, he could call; they wouldn’t be without a phone.

There was one quick stop to make before the happy couple departed on their honeymoon, though. Thor didn’t  need his hammer, but it would certainly be helpful. 

“This one is called Stormbreaker,” the dwarf explained. “It is said it can summon the bi-frost.”

“What do you think?” Thor turned his head to Steve.

“It’s a bit much,” Steve admitted. “I like it.”

They held it together, and returned to Earth in a flash of rainbow light. They had a plane to catch.  Stormbreaker would be fine in the closet for a while.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've got lots of art on the way, so there will be another chapter where I post it! Stay tuned!  
You can always find me on tumblr, where I basically just post thundershield art; I'm stormyandrescuer over there.

“Morning,” a husky voice whispered in his ear, the prickle of a beard tickling his skin.

“Mmmwhat,” Steve groaned, peeling open his eyes and giving them a rub. “You’re up early.”

“Come on. I made breakfast,” Thor whispered. A hand slithered under the blankets and stroked up his chest.

Steve batted it away, a smile on his face. “Later. Morgan’s here. Tony’s coming to pick her up today.” He yawned and rolled over so he could grin up at Thor. “Then you can do what you want with me.”

“I look forward to it,” Thor smirked in the dim light of dawn. The sun had barely started to rise. “Come on. Breakfast.”

He couldn’t say no to that. Steve rolled out of bed and pulled on a shirt, following Thor down to the kitchen where breakfast was waiting. They sat down to eat as they always did, enjoying eggs and toast and coffee. Morgan wouldn’t be far behind.

Sure enough, a few minutes later, the little girl came racing down the steps, climbing eagerly into Steve’s lap. Thor filled her a plate and pushed it over, watching proudly as the young girl began to eat with all the gusto of growing warriors, or so the demigod had put it.

“Is daddy coming today?” Morgan asked.

“Yeah, your dad’s coming to get you after lunch,” Steve agreed. “That means we have lots of time to play before then. We should pick some peaches for you to take home.”

“Yay! Mama likes your peaches,” Morgan smiled around a mouthful of toast. “Can we have some apples too?”

“Only if your mama makes us an apple pie,” Steve bargained.

Morgan nodded enthusiastically.

“Okay, go get dressed, and we can say hi to the chickens,” Steve set the girl on the floor and she tore off excitedly.

“She is truly a Stark,” Thor chuckled, standing to help collect the dishes. He grabbed his favorite plaid shirt and buttoned it over his v-neck, sliding on a pair of boots. “She is very bright.”

“I’m not surprised Tony wanted a break,” Steve smiled. “She’s a handful.”

Morgan scurried back down and hummed a little tune to herself as she got her feet into her rubber boots one at a time. Then she promptly launched herself into Thor’s arms, always eager to be carried whenever she could. The demigod was elated, stepping out of the house and placing her on his shoulders. Together, the trio walked out into the early morning sun. They ventured to the chicken coop first, and Morgan scampered around collecting as many eggs as she could find. Thor went to put the basket inside, and Steve took her hand to lead her to the orchard.

It wasn’t large. There were only two of them after all, but there were enough trees to keep the Avengers, active and retired, full of fruit all year round. The others were happy to help when they came to visit, especially during harvest season. And Pepper always made delicious pies with whatever she was given and brought them round for Christmas, or as thank- yous for looking after Morgan. Steve grabbed a carboard box from the shed and set it on a ladder where Morgan could reach it sat atop his shoulders. They started in the apple trees, the young girl carefully selecting which fruits she wanted and filling the box.

“When’s your birthday, kiddo?” Steve looked up.

“In a month,” she beamed at him.

“How old will you be?”

“Five!” she held up her fingers, and dropped the apple in her hand. Steve caught it and set it in the box.

“What do you want for your birthday?”

“Um...” she tapped her chin thoughtfully, big brown eyes bright and intelligent, just like her father’s. “I want a ride with Charlie.”

“You can have a ride with Charlie any time,” Steve chuckled. “We can go for one today, before your dad gets back.”

“Yay!” Morgan was easy to please, for the daughter of a billionaire. She didn’t want much. But then, she had everything. “You’re the best.”

“Better than dad?”

“Uh...” she gave it some thought. “Nice try Uncle Steve.”

“Better than Uncle Thor at least?”

“ Mmm ... I think it’s a tie.” The little girl picked another apple and put it in the box. “Okay. Can we get some peaches now please?”

“Course we can,” Steve set her down and picked up the box, carrying it over to the peach trees. Sometimes it was hard to remember not to fill it too heavy, or Tony wouldn’t be able to carry it. Last time the inventor needed Iron Man just to pick it up.

Morgan raced ahead of him to the peach trees and waited patiently for him to catch up. He set down the box and bent down so she could crawl up his back and seat herself on his shoulders again. She loved to be up high. Steve sometimes wondered if one day she would turn up in her own Iron Man suit. He wouldn’t  surprised if it turned out she’d made it herself.

Thor was back, leading Charlie by the reins. The  pegasus had a grown a little since they’d first gotten him, and was almost as big as Ares. He’d calmed, too, patiently allowing himself to be saddled. He loved Morgan, straining the reins so he could nuzzle her. She giggled and reached down from Steve’s shoulders, patting the  pegasus on his silky grey nose. Charlie ruffled his wings in greeting and reached up higher so he could brush his nose on her face, tickling her cheeks with his whiskers. He gave Steve a little nudge of greeting too, pushing his head into the soldier’s chest.

Steve got down on his knee and Thor lifted Morgan off his shoulders and onto the saddle, climbing up behind her and wrapping a strong arm around her waist. Charlie spread his wings and took a couple of steps back, turning away from the orchard so he would have space to get a bit of a run-up. At Thor’s gentle nudge of his heel, the  pegasus took a few galloping steps and launched into the sky. Steve shielded his face with a hand and watched them rise higher and higher, until a low-hanging cloud swallowed them up, Morgan’s cries of joy disappearing with them.

Steve sighed and picked up the box of fruit, carrying it to the strawberry patch and setting it down. He added a smaller box on top and started to fill it with berries.

Farming was perfect work for two super-humans who didn’t need nearly as much sleep as they got, and were stronger than any other human on Earth. It kept them busy, tending the orchard, looking after the horses and Charlie, and tending the couple of cows and handful of chickens they kept. The town was close enough to get to it they needed supplies other than what they could grow or produce, but far enough away that nobody bothered them. They weren’t isolated; everyone came to visit. Tony was always bringing Morgan around and staying for a little while when he came to pick her up or drop her off. Pepper often came along to visit. The couple had gotten married on this farm, out under the fruit trees. Steve had led Pepper out on Charlie’s back, her dress flowing across the animal’s silky white coat. And Tony had cried, because it truly had been magical. He’d claimed his wedding was better even than Steve’s, and the retired soldier had to agree that it came pretty close.

Bucky visited a lot too. He found peace on the farm, and frequently came here to relax if he was going through a rough spell, or just wanted to hang out. Often times he brought Sam with him, but now that Tony had retired, Bucky and Sam were running the Avengers together. There wasn’t  always time for a visit. 

That was okay. With Stormbreaker, all they had to do was summon a portal, and they were at the tower. The Avengers had only called on their retired friends twice. Once, when Tony had still been leading, the attack had been so big and wide-spread that he’d apologetically (but frantically) dialed the house. Steve had the cell phone in his pocket, as always, and he and Thor had been dressed in no time flat. Just like that, in a burst of rainbow light, they’d arrived on the battlefield. Tony had been right to call them, but he hadn’t stopped apologizing afterward.

The second time came after Tony had retired, and Bucky was just getting used to his new role leading the team alongside Sam. He’d been nervous, even though the team supported him. All of it, new members included. Tony had added a few new faces not long after Steve had left, including a kid named Peter who looked too young, but fit in too perfectly with the gang. Bucky had called in a panic, and Steve had come.

He’d given Sam the shield, even though his uniform still hung in his closet. Sam deserved it, and Steve couldn’t be prouder when he caught glimpses of his friend in action in the odd news  clip he saw.

It was time for lunch. Steve brought the box of fruit to the house and set it on the porch bench, going inside to start making something. He wasn’t the cook that Thor was, but he could make a garden salad as well as anyone. Steve walked outside and round to the side of the house where they grew their produce. There was a good variety, and enough to feed the two of them plus guests. Steve had wondered how they would feed two racing metabolisms without having to run to the store every day, but this was the answer: a market in their back yard. They had eggs, milk, produce, and really only had to buy things like flour. Tony had joked they should join the farmer’s market in town, sell some of their produce. Steve actually liked the sound of that.

He made a big bowl of peach salad, setting it on the table and cutting up some potatoes for tonight’s dinner while he waited. He set the knife down when he heard the sound of whirring engines.

The jet landed on its designated spot, and the ramp lowered. Tony walked out, clad in jeans and a t-shirt. He put on a pair of sunglasses and grinned when he saw Steve’s hurrying over to give his friend a handshake and a big hug.

“How’s my little terror?” Tony asked, looking around.

“Terrorizing some birds, I imagine,” Steve chuckled. “They’ll be down soon. How you been?” He started to lead his friend back to the house.

“Oh, you know, same-old  same-old ,” Tony mused, putting his hands in his pockets. “Pepper’s complaining about my alpaca eating her goji berries and trying to teach me about composting. Living the good life.” He was being sarcastic, but Steve could tell he was genuinely happy. Maybe missing the rush of battle, but content with his family.

“Good,” Steve smiled. “Come on in. Lunch is ready.” He pulled out a chair and walked to the counter to put on the coffee machine. Tony had insisted they bring it with them, even though the huge, fancy thing didn’t entirely fit with the house. Though... somehow it did. It was a little bit mis-matched, just like everything else here. That made it perfect.

Tony had a seat at the table and took off his sunglasses, leaning back and looking around. “So, you guys should learn to make cheese. You could sell it for a lot of money. Start your own dairy company... People would buy it you know. Avengers’ cheese...”

Steve laughed. “As much as I’d be interested to learn how to make cheese, I don’t think I want to start a company.”

“Never too late, old man,” Tony teased. “Anybody can become an entrepreneur.”

Steve smiled and retrieved the mug from the machine, passing it over to Tony. “Maybe one day.”

The door burst open, and Morgan came racing in. Tony quickly set down his coffee so he could haul his daughter into his lap. “Daddy daddy! We saw some birds! Charlie flew so high, and we saw... Uncle Thor, what birds did we see?”

“Swallows,” Thor shut the door behind him and took off his boots, walking over to the counter to lay out some bowls and give Steve a kiss. “Hello, Tony.”

“Hey Goldilocks, showing up Dad again, huh?”

“I love you most, daddy,” Morgan insisted. “Promise!”

Thor laughed and dished out salad, passing a bowl to Tony and then another for Morgan. He filled her a glass of juice and put it into her reaching hands.

“My kid’s  gonna put herself up for adoption if you’re not careful,” Tony chuckled.

“No, daddy, I promise! I don’t love Uncle Steve and Uncle Thor as much as you!” the little girl turned in her father’s lap and gave his mouth a big kiss. She patted him on the head reassuringly.

“What about Charlie, you love him as much as me?”

“Almost!” Morgan exclaimed. “But not as much as you! You’re still better.”

“Ha, see that? I still win,” Tony smirked at his friends.

“You’re uninvited to the Christmas party,” Steve sat down. “But Morgan can still come.”

“Yay!”

\--

They ate lunch together, then Tony gathered Morgan and all her things in his arms, carrying her into the jet. Steve brought the box of fruit with him and set it on the bench, making sure it was secure for the flight. Thor came along and got down on his knee so Morgan could give him a big hug and kiss on the forehead. He kissed hers back very gently and promised to take good care of Charlie and give him lots of kisses for her.

Steve gave Morgan a hug too and promised she could come back for her birthday and fly with Charlie, and that Uncle Thor would make her  her favorite cake with lots of fruit and chocolate on top. It would still be warm enough outside to eat on the grass, and they could have a picnic.

Tony came for hugs too, receiving a tight squeeze from Thor, and gentler embrace from Steve. “Take care,” waved them off.

“You too,” Steve smiled. “Say hi to Pepper.”

The couple stood together and watched the jet take off into the sky, hand-in-hand.

“You want to go for a ride?” Thor turned to face him. “After Charlie is brushed.”

“Sure,” Steve agreed. “I’d like that.” A ride, just the two of them. There was a quiet mountain trail up behind their house that served good exercise for Asgardian horses, as well as for super-soldiers and demigods. There was no shortage of activities to keep their battle-honed senses satiated. Sparring in the field was just one. There was no-one to fight, but a bit of wrestling was always enjoyable.

They walked to the stables together. Thor found Charlie’s brushes and groomed the  pegasus while Steve tacked up the horses. A few minutes later, they were riding off across the field, through the fence and into the forest. It was a perfect day for a ride, warm but with a slight breeze to make it bearable. The horses made quick work of the steep trail, wading effortlessly through the frigid river and a little farther up to a small clearing with a waterfall and a pool at its base. Their own little sanctuary outside of their home.

Steve dismounted and started to pull off his clothes, wading into the icy mountain water. He cupped his hands and took a sip. The water here was so much better than city water, crisp and clean and untouched by pollution. Thor was only a moment behind, sinking his huge body under the water and swimming over. He turned onto his back and floated, gently kicking his legs and turning circles as he stared up at the sun peeking through the treetops. “Can you believe it’s been six years since we left?”

“I still can’t believe we’re married,” Steve chuckled as he waded across the pool to the other side, the waterfall’s mist caressing his cheek. He twisted the ring around his finger, enjoying the weight of it on his hand. 

“I was thinking perhaps we could visit  Asgard soon,” Thor suggested. “Spend the day.”

“Sure, I’d like that,” Steve agreed. He actually quite enjoyed a visit up to the golden kingdom now and then. It was a little strange to say it, but Loki had become his friend. The quick-witted god made for good company. Sif too. She’d relaxed, and had taken up a position at Loki’s side commanding the armies. Only a year ago, the god had revealed himself, letting his disguise as Odin fall away completely. The kingdom hadn’t minded as much as Thor had feared, but he had been there all the same to ensure a smooth transition. Ultimately though, things had continued running as they had before; smoothly, happily. The kingdom was thriving. Thor was very proud of his brother, and had always hoped that someday he would be able to lead the kingdom as himself instead of from under a mask.

They left the pool to dry off in the sun, finally getting dressed and riding back to the house in time to finish a few chores around the farm. They ate dinner out under the stars, caressed by a warm evening breeze. The nights were starting to get longer again. After Morgan’s birthday, the nights would start to get colder too, heralding the arrival of Fall.

Then it would be winter time, and Christmas would be around the corner. Steve loved Christmas. He got to fill his house with all his friends, many of which stayed for a night or two, sometimes a whole week. They would exchange gifts and eat lots of food, the whole group together. Clint would bring his own wife and kids, something he’d somehow managed to hide from the rest of the team for years, and they would spend a week just being happy. Not that Steve was ever not happy. Sure, the odd nightmare fought its way into his head how and then, but Thor was always there to coax him out of it, make him a hot drink if he needed it, and take care of him with tirelessly as he always had. Steve did the same when Thor suffered his own nightmares, but those were just as rare.

The cold didn’t bother him so much anymore, not when he had a furnace of a husband to crawl into bed with. Sometimes they would go the bed early on a particularly cold night, just so they could cuddle up under piles of blankets and enjoy each other’s company. Sometimes they read a book, or shared a hot drink, or just chatted until it was very late. It didn’t matter. They didn’t need much sleep, so they could stay up late and not suffer for it tomorrow.

They packed up their dinner and went to check on everything before going back inside and up to their bedroom. Thor had that look in his eye, which Steve was frankly glad to see. The shiver in his spine was back.

It hadn’t taken long for Thor to teach him what he liked, and what the demigod in-turn enjoyed. Both of them were strong and hardy, and it took a lot to tire them, but they always managed to work each other breathless. The house was empty save for them, and there was no-one around for miles. They could do what they liked. Thor pushed him into bed and landed on top of him, pulling off both of their clothes. Sometimes Steve helped, and sometimes he gave, but often he was happy just to lie here at Thor’s mercy and take what was given. That was good, because that was often Thor’s plan anyway. He liked to be the giver, the protector, the provider. He was happy and proud to do whatever he could for Steve, make his soldier feel like the top of the world.

Steve lay there, panting and spent. As usual, Thor leaned over to admire his handiwork, a little smirk on his lips. No matter how many times they did this, Steve would never be bored, and was always a little shocked by the end. The novelty wouldn’t ever wear off, and Thor never got tired of enlightening him. He leaned his face on his hand and traced Steve’s scarred shoulder as he so often did, admiring the mark. Steve was quite proud of it too. He reached up to brush aside locks of wavy golden hair out of Thor’s face, brushing his thumb along his scarred eye. His eye patch was sat on the bedside table.

Steve caught his breath while they lay there admiring each other. As usual, Thor offered him more, and he took it.

\--

It was Morgan’s birthday. Thor baked a cake and Steve helped decorating, arranging the fruits skillfully on top. Everyone was there, with the birthday girl last to arrive.

She ran to Bucky first, jumping into his arms. “Uncle Bucky!” 

Bucky loved the kid. He always gave her a calm smiled hiding excitement behind it, opening his arms wide for the child to jump into them. He always scooped her off her feet, careful of her little body in his strong arms, especially his metal one. Morgan didn’t mind his prosthetic at all, not even when it touched her bare skin, though Bucky always tried to keep it covered by a jacket and glove. She was good for him, unbothered even when he was in a bad mood and wore a scowl. She didn’t care, and Tony could never stop her from running to him for a hug. It always brightened the reformed assassin right up. Tony had eventually warmed up to it, reasonably protective of his daughter.

“Hey boys,” Natasha sauntered over. “Just because  you’re farmers doesn’t mean you can only wear plaid.”

“This is my most comfortable shirt,” Thor frowned.

“You have to fully embrace the lifestyle,” Steve returned her hug warmly. “How’re things?”

“Same as always,” Nat replied. “Miss you guys, but we’re getting on. Oh, Peter’s here, by the way.”

Steve liked Peter. He was a good kid with a warm heart and strong spirit. It was no wonder Tony had taken a liking to him. The kid could use the guidance, too.

And he was cute, racing over with long limbs almost tangling together. Sometimes it was hard to believe he was so acrobatic and balanced the way he awkwardly galloped over to enthusiastically to shake Steve and Thor’s hands. “Hi Mr. America, Captain, sir.  Mr , um, Thor.”

“Hey Peter,” Steve smiled. “Just Steve is fine.” He knew he would always be Captain America, even if he wasn’t on active duty.

“Mr. Stark said I could come... hope that’s okay. Oh wow, this place is big!” Peter peered around Steve’s shoulders. “Aw cool, you guys have horses?”

“We have more than that,” Thor smiled widely. “Come, I will show you. You will like it.” He glanced over at Steve, and the Captain nodded.

“Take Morgan with you,” he added.

They held the party in the orchard. Tables were set up in the sunshine and covered in table clothes, the food brought out. They laid out blankets for everyone to sit on and sang happy-birthday much to the delight of the little girl. They ate together, and she opened her presents, delighted with everything she was given, especially the cake Thor had made her. Steve gave her a painting of Charlie drinking from the river in a patch of sun, his wings spread at his sides so the breeze could ruffle his feathers the way he liked. There were little birds in the trees and rabbits curiously inspected Charlie’s hooves. Morgan loved it, loudly proclaiming that she would get her dad to hang it in her room for her.

The rest of the day was spent lounging in the orchard, playing games of Morgan’s choice and eating fruit out of the trees. “Uncle Steve! Can you run with me across the field please?” The girl finally came bounding over, grabbing Steve’s knee and bouncing with excitement.

“Of course,” Steve turned and knelt so she could clamber onto his back. “But hold on tight. Are you ready?” She wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist, nodding. Steve carried her through the orchard and into the field before bursting into a sprint. He clung tight to Morgan’s legs as he ran, and she whooped, greatly enjoying the speed.

Everyone returned to the house for dinner, gathering around the dining table and filling the living room. Tony had brought steak, much to Morgan’s delight, and Thor’s. The girl sat on the prince’s lap, a grin on her sauce-covered lips as Thor praised her eating abilities and  proclaimed she would grow into a mighty warrior in no time.

\--

Snow wasn’t far around the corner. When it came Steve was in the stables brushing the horses. He quickly dropped everything he was doing and yelled across the field to where Thor was fixing the fence. “ _ Grab the camera! _ ”

Together, they raced for the house to find it. They were just in time. Quietly, they positioned themselves by the fence, the camera ready to record as the snow gently drifted down from the hazy grey sky and dusted the grass. Moments later, Charlie burst out of the stables, tossing his head and unfurling his wings, dancing wildly through the snow though there was barely any yet. He did this every year without fail, rolling around in the lightly dusted ground and jumping with pure joy. He beat his wings and pranced around in the clouds they swirled up, tossing his mane and trotting in circles before sweeping up another cloud and doing it over again. When there was enough snow, he would go out and roll in it, pushing his nose through the layers until his head was buried. Charlie liked to settle deep in the powder, shuffling until it completely covered him, wings spread out to either side. Then he would burst free in an explosion of white and shake all the snow from his coat.

The novelty never wore off, for Charlie or the couple. They always took videos and sent them to their friends, and Thor would always bring their phone to  Asgard when they visited so he could proudly show his brother. Loki actually appeared amused, his eyebrow lifting slightly and a faint smile on his lips.

Today was no different; Charlie frolicked like a dog with a new toy, excitedly jumping all around the field as the snow kept coming down and down. He didn’t seem to mind the cold at all, which was something Thor and Steve had both been a little worried about. Tony had helped them make a winter blanket with holes for his wings, but the  pegasus hadn’t turned out to need it. He much preferred to be out in the snow than curled up in the warm stables. The other two horses didn’t mind the cold, but they weren’t as enthusiastic about it as their companion.

“I wanted to be a  valkyrie when I was a child,” Thor admitted, still peering through the lens of the camera. “I was... too old when Loki broke the news that only women could become one. I was devastated,” he chuckled.

“You can still be one now,” Steve shrugged. “You have your noble steed. I’m sure we could find you the outfit.”

Thor was actually flushed, a little embarrassed. He shrugged and continued to watch Charlie rub his back into the snowy grass, legs in the air.

Steve laughed. “Aw, I think it’s cute,” he gave the prince’s arm a shove.

“You think so?”

“Oh course,” Steve leaned on the fence. Charlie snorted a cloud of snow and fanned his wings, watching for a moment as the snow swirled off the ground before rearing up on his back legs and leaping into it. “All kids have dreams.”

“What did you dream when you were a child?” Thor glanced away from the camera for a moment.

Steve shrugged. “I wanted to go to war, like my dad. And I wanted to be an artist. Aside from that... I guess there was a time when I wanted to grow up and be a nurse like mom.”

“You would make a fine nurse,” Thor beamed proudly.

Steve sighed contentedly and watched more of Charlie’s antics until he started to feel the chill. He shivered and tucked his chin into his scarf. Thor promptly turned off the camera and put it in the pocket of his jacket, scooping Steve off the ground and carrying him inside. Steve wrapped his arms around Thor’s neck, not bothered at all to be manhandled and set right on the couch by the fireplace.

“You’d make a pretty fine nurse too,” Steve smirked, letting the demigod pull off his boots and jacket. “You fuss like one.”

“Since when have you objected to my fussing?” Thor dragged a big quilt off the armchair and wrapped him in it, going to start the fire.

“Who says I’m  complainin ’?”

“I think it’s a sly ploy for my attention,” the demigod turned on the kettle and came over with mugs.

“Yeah? And how’d you figure that out?” Steve freed his arm so he could take the tea offered to him. He sat up so Thor could slide in behind him, resting his shoulders into the prince’s warm chest.

“You are very clever, but not quite clever enough to fool me,” Thor kissed the top of his head. “But I will oblige you, just this once.”

\--

Christmas rolled around, and the whole gang came to the house to celebrate. They brought in a tree, and everyone brought food. Soon the table was piled with offerings, including Pepper’s apple pie. The record player was on in the background, playing soft music under the babble.

Steve came to sit with Bucky on the couch, handing him a mug of coffee. “Hey Buck. How you been?”

“Good,” Bucky smiled, glancing at kitchen where Sam was standing with Thor and Natasha, laughing over something the Widow had said. “Real good.”

“Team’s treatin’ you good?”

“Always,” Bucky smiled. “What about you?”

“Yeah, me too,” Steve looked over at Thor. His hair was tied back and he was wearing a big knitted sweater in a flattering navy color. It was absolutely massive, but his chest still filled into it. 

“I overheard Clint’s kids  beggin ’ for a flying horse,” Bucky mentioned. “He’s pretty annoyed. You might want to watch out.”

“I’ll keep my eye out,” Steve chuckled.

They ate long into the evening, Thor plopped comfortably in Steve’s lap, nursing a mug of egg  nog heavily doctored with Asgardian liquor. As usual, he was greatly enjoying the holiday. A few hours later, he was happy to help all the kids wrap up in warm jackets and scarves and take them out under the night stars to give Charlie and the other horses some carrots.

The team slowly filtered out over the next few days, leaving for the tower or their own homes. Tony and Pepper stayed the longest, so that Morgan could spend some extra time with Charlie without the other children or guests around to disturb the shy creature. He was very happy to get his quality time with the sweet girl, lying down in the snow so she could braid his mane and make snowmen. She crawled under his spread wing and tried to convince Tony to let her sleep there all night. Charlie wouldn’t have minded at all.

Eventually, Tony had to leave too. He packed up his family into the jet and bid them goodbye. Hugs were passed all around, and Steve and Thor were alone again.

They watched the jet disappear into the sky before Steve turned to Thor. “Hey. You  wanna go make a snowman?”

Thor grinned widely, and they build a massive, towering snowman.

The house was empty again, which meant they could do what they wanted without disturbing any guests. As the sky grew dark, they launched for bed, discarding their clothes and leaping under the covers as fast as they could.

A couple hours later, they fell asleep as always, tangled in each other, warm and content, where nothing could reach them. Tomorrow they would wake up, spend their day working, maybe drive down to town for a few supplies, and come back in time for dinner. Then they’d be back in this bed, together. As they would the night after, and the next and the next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well that's it folks! A few things:
> 
> 1\. Thank you sticking with me through this project! It was immensely fun to write, and I loved reading your reactions to it! Couldn't have done it without you <3
> 
> 2\. I would love your feedback! Any kind of feedback is welcome (so long as it isn't flat-out mean). Constructive criticism is very welcome! I don't take things personally, and I don't mind hearing your thoughts, even the parts you didn't prefer. Trust me, there are things I would change looking back too. I can take those thoughts with me into my next story! And believe me, there will be a next story.
> 
> 3\. Still open to ideas and suggestions, of course! I have a few ideas in mind, but if you've got any feel free to let me know, and I'll add them to my list!


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I still plan to upload all the other artwork for this in one final chapter, plus I have a couple extra things to add.
> 
> But for now, this: I worked very hard and long on it, and meant to have it ready waaay sooner. But here you are! You can also find me on tumblr [here](https://stormyandrescuer.tumblr.com/)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE HONEYMOON


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here we are, a bit more artwork! Featuring what was posted throughout the story, plus a couple extras.  
You can always follow me on [tumblr](https://stormyandrescuer.tumblr.com/), where I post more thundershield art, some of which doesn't end up in my fics!
> 
> I am also in the planning process for my next story! Yay!


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